I wish Sunday mornin’ could feel more like Tuesday nights
Twelve steps down to a basement under harsh fluorescent lights
All ages, all races all walks of life at 6PM
Stumblin’ in to keep ourselves from stumbling again
Strangers spilling secrets in a circle without walls
Tryin’ to reach for of alcohol.
All in a grey chair
Sippin’ coffee in a white cup
throwin’ up in there
judge cause we know we all messed up
no steeple people
Wearin’ tags on shirts
Where the heals, more the hurts
more church
Suit sleeve
matter whatever
Bring baggage got to have it all together
without a fresh of a bender
No need to pretend in a full of pretenders
Strangers in recovery confessin’ we are weak
Desperate for forgiveness accountability
day at a day at a time
Prayin’ thirst.
more church
kind of church
All in a grey chair
Sippin’ coffee in a white cup
throwin’ up in here
Cause we all know rock bottom sucks
no steeple people
Wearin’ tags on shirts
Where the more the hurts
more church