I suppose I have a choice to do
whatever I please
with whatever time I have left.

At this point
I'm not sure how much of it is wasted,
how much of the past.

Donna Greene called me a false prophet.
(I assume among far worse things said in my old church)
My cynical self at one time would have laughed at the ignorance,
but instead I hurt.

And so the saints keep on sainting,
having no idea they are destined for Hell.

What did God save me from,
when He led me from that place?
At this point,
I'm still not certain.

I'd like to take the time now,
and for the rest of my days,
to be kind.

I asked my lovely wife,
my young bride,
if I was what people said I was.
And in her tender voice
she said no.

So I take comfort in the Beatitudes,
in Matthew 5:11 - 12.
The Lord chastened me for my adultery,
but never abandoned me.

And there is no way to tell these people,
the holiest of holy rollers
that their sins are forgivable.
How can I tell them that
when they think they don't sin?

I can't watch
the toasts any longer,
not even for another minute.

Oh, I know what I am,
nobody had to tell me..
And I know what I've done wrong.