Chapel
I have said a thousand prayers,
In a thousand of his mansions,
On the hardest wooden benches,
Finding faith in minute rations...
That every time I closed my eyes,
I opened them to see,
The statue fore the stained glass,
That keeps staring back at me...
The echo from the alter,
As the preacher takes a stand,
Starts shaking the foundation,
As he slowly raise his hands...
But even if his blessings,
Doesn't reach beyond my pew,
I stand upon inspection,
With a sense of some renew...
So when I'm resurrected,
He'll look in my eyes and see,
I carried all his blessings,
In the chapel within me...
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