You talk of God.
Something you say,
It's been a rouch weekend, I explain.
You ask why and I give you a synopsis.
You say, There's one who loves you like no other...
I interrupt, I know what you're going to say
and I don't really want to hear it. As true as it may be.
She ignores me and continues, His name is Jehovah.
she tells me the reason why I don't go to church
which is the biggest unreason,
You don't go because you feel guilty.
I correct her quickly,
No, actually it's because I don't feel guilty at all. I've
felt guilty my entire life. I'm tired and done with
feeling that way.
You tell me,
Talk to God like you talk to a friend.
I'm not talking to God right now. It's been a while.
Sometimes I don't even know why I don't.
Other times I'm just angry.
Walking down 40th Avenue,
2 women, 2 worlds, separate all their own
With the only thought in common,
to trade shoes? No, thanks.
the look we keep swapping with each other,
one of pity, as if each other is something fragile
and weak to be rescued.