Sleeping in Sunday Morning

At my church,
The perfect church,
They never sing too loud.

The hymn’s are all my favorite
No one ever sits in my seat
And, everyone knows
My name.

At this church,
The perfect church,
The preacher stays on point.

The message doesn’t veer too close
No one expects anything of me
And, I don’t ask much
In return.

At church,
The perfect church,
The Good News is for tomorrow.

Heaven is someplace far, far away
No one tries to tell me different
And, I wouldn’t believe it
If they did.

At my church,
The perfect church,
I know each line by heart.

Because it’s my church,
The perfect church.
It’s not ours.
Not His.
Mine.

And, I worship there alone.