I was born here. Where the tops of the church houses meet the sun.
I can't stay here. If I do, I don't think I will ever grow up.
In his front room, we read words he thought true. He loved every line.
I tried so hard. Dressed up nice, & sang songs in the congregation choir.
They're still burning. I don't feel fire. Can they tell I'm empty?
Filled with light, their temples glisten underneath His empty eyes.
Oh, my mother, lost her man & now she thinks she won't find heaven.
At the lake now, there is fog so dark you'd think there is no heaven.
If there is, I know she'll get in.
& I will tell her I was wrong.
I will tell her I was wrong.
& I will tell them I was wrong.