What are these pews but bars?
Holding us in. Quelling our angst.
What are these movements but rhythms?
What are our songs but noise,
with an estranged heart.
These bright lights will harden my soul.
Will the stained glass swallow me whole?
Could I step into the grass and sing, dance, pray?
Without a sword on a thread above my head?
Will I follow the Lamb of God to his home?
Come let us go there now.
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