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EMPTY PEWS
These seats have stories and if they could talk
You would hear of the lives that many people walk
The church filled on each weekly Sunday morn
With families and neighbors and hearts that are torn
They will show up today maybe hear 
Some good news
As they forced themselves to fill empty pews
The pastor is new or maybe been round the block
Dressed real nice does he really walk the walk
His wife is quiet what goes on in the home?
Does she have his back or is her heart on the roam?
His suit well pressed and perfectly shined shoes
But does he really care for those in the pews
If they come at all the men in that town 
From working all week and from being beat down
Full of guilt and grief and worry and sorrow 
They’ve no time for shallowness dealing with tomorrow 
Last night they got hammered from drinking the booze
And reluctantly strolled in hungover to rest in these pews
Mother sits down after dropping off kids
She needs a break from cleaning up babies bibs
The bills the laundry and the groceries are low
But on Sunday for a moment a bit time will slow
Tomorrow morning will come there will be no hitting the snooze 
She’s thinking of all she’s to do 
Sitting there in the pews
Here comes a single man internally shamed
Unable to find a wife but his eyes lust in flame
Unable to get a grip he is labored and worn
Won’t share at all that he’s addicted to porn
Trying to fit in and find his way but extremely confused 
Maybe there is wisdom found down the isle of these pews
A young woman not modest but with a figure and pretty
And she is well acquainted with that forbidden city 
Will she be met with grace or blatantly refused
She has heard of the self righteous who sit in those pews
The elderly still come with hair full of gray 
Waiting patiently to meet there maker any a day
Weaker now but heaven is in their full view
Praying to see him siting here in these cold wooden pews 
The congregation is a mix whites blacks and Asian
Mexican, educated, rich, poor and gender persuasion 
Some come for comfort and mercy others for fire and brimstone 
But I guarantee that each person suffers individually alone
Everyone wakes on Sunday with a conscious that’s bruised
But deep down inside they want to be healed by the pews 
The devil and his demons love and serve to wreck havoc 
They run interference in your mind with much traffic 
To deter you and beat you with incredible abuse
But you can and you must endure like these old worn out pews 
By: beardedjarhead
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