Oh abandoned church of God with windows made of air and shards,
and congregation made of nameless, broken concrete structured walls,
Painted over original design with black and grey sprayed paints,
Not a mural nor a picture hung, not a broken statue stands in place.
The gold which once had lit the candles and the smiles of the priests
Has left this town and church alone for cathedrals with real seats.
Prayers that once soared through the ceiling and to the ears of God
now come from far away though the memories of home have been forgotten
Praying hands now come together in bed rather than in pews,
For beds have no price nor will they lie to tell the truth.
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