Post by Devi145 on Jun 16, 2003 17:29:17 GMT -5
People say this, People say that...
Well, I'm sitting here in my confession, trying to block out other prayer's seeming as if im a warrior lost in combat.
I sit and watch each day as People come to release, they come to confess their sins.
Church, the Holy House that guards my heart and soul.
While others treat it like crinkled soda cans only to be tossed into garbage bins.
Every Sunday we'd get up to go, as if it was testing us... as if it was guiding us to being pure.
Now times have changed, my family hardly sees the place, as if inside of it a fearful labrynth lures.
I may not go to Church everyday, or every moment like some Christians do,
To me, I dont need a time or a place on Sunday to meet with the Holy few.
I kneel before my bed, before sweet dreams caress my worried mind.
I clasp my gentle hands together and send a prayer, not for me...
But for the others I will one day leave behind.
I do not wish that they carry on to forget me and my playful ways,
Because today, so chilly and dark, I hope they realize the simplicity of my games.
Like a family tree that slowly and swiftly sways,
I am expanding my home, and meeting new people each day.
So with that saying I'll finish this and say to friends that I hope you know,
Today, I went to bed thinking of you, and whispered a silent prayer...
For happiness, love, light, beauty and help through your painful nights,
If i may pass so soon, and you feel a touch upon your pillow...be aware.
I'm softly brushing your hair back with my fingertips, kissing your forehead good bye and turning off the lights.
I'll never leave you, if you ever need me, stare upon my last confession,
Go to Church just one more time, light a candle for me, and end my final session.
Well, I'm sitting here in my confession, trying to block out other prayer's seeming as if im a warrior lost in combat.
I sit and watch each day as People come to release, they come to confess their sins.
Church, the Holy House that guards my heart and soul.
While others treat it like crinkled soda cans only to be tossed into garbage bins.
Every Sunday we'd get up to go, as if it was testing us... as if it was guiding us to being pure.
Now times have changed, my family hardly sees the place, as if inside of it a fearful labrynth lures.
I may not go to Church everyday, or every moment like some Christians do,
To me, I dont need a time or a place on Sunday to meet with the Holy few.
I kneel before my bed, before sweet dreams caress my worried mind.
I clasp my gentle hands together and send a prayer, not for me...
But for the others I will one day leave behind.
I do not wish that they carry on to forget me and my playful ways,
Because today, so chilly and dark, I hope they realize the simplicity of my games.
Like a family tree that slowly and swiftly sways,
I am expanding my home, and meeting new people each day.
So with that saying I'll finish this and say to friends that I hope you know,
Today, I went to bed thinking of you, and whispered a silent prayer...
For happiness, love, light, beauty and help through your painful nights,
If i may pass so soon, and you feel a touch upon your pillow...be aware.
I'm softly brushing your hair back with my fingertips, kissing your forehead good bye and turning off the lights.
I'll never leave you, if you ever need me, stare upon my last confession,
Go to Church just one more time, light a candle for me, and end my final session.