Guilt

Here's the church and here's the steeple --
Bloody hands and bloody people.
Stark white shirts and shined-up shoes;
Don't forget to pay your dues.
People smile and pass you by;
No one knows how we all cry
Alone in cars as we leave this place,
Begging for amazing grace.

Here's the church and here's the steeple --
How I hate these broken people.
Broken hearts and broken lives --
All God's efforts paralyzed
By one who promised so much good,
But never so much understood
The gravity of lying tongues
Crushing hopes and choking lungs.

Here's the church and here's the steeple --
All the lonely, lying people
Looking for a leading man
To help and heal their broken land.
Broken ones remind me now
Of broken words and clearly how
That all those things I said and meant
Were undone missions heaven-sent.