The cozy white chapel on a hill

The cozy white chapel on a hill

The spirit as stale as the painted walls, old.

Every week it’s the same thing

The suits are masks covering needy nakedness

We come and sing forgotten songs

We pray our lists to surrounding walls

We read God’s word without real love,

And without love, all is meaningless.

Is this the church as she should be?

A gospel of obnoxious clichés.

Of distant love, meaningless traditions

Break the typical! Restore your plan!