Losing My Religion

I once lost my religion once,

ages ago,

back when I fled the church.

Hell hot on my heels.

I fled from the Reverend.

I thought, ain’t no way I’m going back there;

so, I packed a bag, headed east,

my own little retreat.

I passed churches on the way

in various states of decay,

no cathedrals in this land,

but sure are billboards, bland.

I thought God lost

ever since I tossed my cross

down into a drainpipe.

Then you came,

spoke my name,

like I was something Holy,

something free from sin

and the rot within – something whole.

If I worship once more,

it won’t be upon the church floor,

instead we’ll be in bed,

intertwined,

your lips my Communion wine.