I Go to Church Every Sunday

Hypocrite Sunday
by: Rob Paquin

No repentance. Nor acceptance.
Just a repeat of last week's sins.
Word's are little, Less your actions.
On Sundays, you sing hymns.

He takes you in and cleanses you
Strips the muck from off your mind.
Purged your soul, and bleached your heart.
Everything sanitized, and shined.

Emerge again..., Unto another chance.
Again the actions repeat.
A hypocrite, in a trance.
A true measure of your conceit.

But in the end, a judgement comes.
You already know the answer.
You know the truth, of all your sins
In denial, you feed your cancer.

~ The Snowdog