I know
I know
You are not my type
To put it mildly
With your
Starched suit and
Neatly knotted tie
Next to which a small tag
Proclaims you as my
Brother
That Bible that Book
Those words in your hand
Proclaim me as your
Enemy your
Cause your
Soul to save
But tell me
Do you know Brother
What it’s like to get inside another
Man’s soul–tell me
If it’s the Devil that got in me
How ’bout letting this Devil
Inside of you
I’m just saying
Why don’t you get off
This soapbox get off
This high horse get off
The cross and get off
With me

I can show you my idea of
Sunday service
Maybe genuflect for you and
To return the favor
Feel the stubble of my cheeks
Between yours
And the silver-tongue of the Serpent
Could have you crying
Out
To your Father
Who art in…
Oh
Oh
Your Garden which
I will not be
Cast out of
I can spoil you child
But I will not spare the rod
Until you are praying
For me to keep going
Keep going
Going
To show you Heaven
In the flames so
Tell me
Do you believe
Do you believe
Do you believe this
             is
                          sinning