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Josh.
Temple mirrors
Roll up to church, said my name is Josh

Girls be all like: “o my gosh

The ways

He gives praise

O—just you watch”

Cuz I got my fresh kicks, Church clothes

Style for days, and down to my toes

High top, no fade

Never show to service a minute late

Holier than thou—

Maybe, but I ain’t judging

Call me devout

Shoo, it ain’t nothin
Head to the room where the preacher comes out

Gives a good word, good and sound

Im convicted now

But later just doubt

We move to singing and the music gets loud

People in the front row giving a shout

Raise my own voice and become one with the crowd

But after everything, am I lifting praise or just praising myself?



The feeling passes and after we’re through

I chat up my peeps and bid them adieu

Done with my mingling, so I’m ready to go

Stomach is tingling and I call it Holy Ghost
It’s also possible that I’m simply feeling starved

Religious euphoria’s great but I head to my car

Outta church, on to Chick-fil-a

Until I remember: they’re closed on Sundays

Christian chicken: yeah, I need a fixin

But I guess now that it’ll have to wait

So what can replace?

Bojangles or PDQ might be okay

All I know is I gotta get some food

Some classic canned Campbell’s I guess will have to do

Eat that mess up, but first give a blessing

Gotta show thanks, you know I ain’t messing

They say Jesus ate amongst tax collectors, and sinners
I eat with my acquaintances, and a breadwinner

Rabbit-hole believer may be what I am:

But what’s wrong with preferring my old lit fam?

I suppose learning how to turn around sometimes puts me in a loop

Still—Hell’s a lot hotter than this chicken noodle soup