The Faith Chronicle: Phone Bill

In the darkest hours the lightangel (2)
On the phone let me know I
Wasn’t alone, the flat line tone
Told me a different story, lone

Behold messages floated through
The hemispheres, unbearably clear
Indications years and years had piled
Up and formed a queue, I only wondered

When I’d get to speak to you, after all,
You made these bones and planted my
Grave, long before I had anything to say,
You, as they often reminded me, had parts

To play I would never get to see, but there’s
Something to be said about responsibility, of
Remembering to greet your disciples instead
Of putting them on hold, standing at empty

Phone boxes in freezing cold weather, the
Tether between father and child has never
Stretched so thin, weren’t you the one who
Forgave our sins, why now do you punish them?

I have witnessed the endless lines of spineless demons
Signing forms of apology, is that what you want? One
From me? Because in all honesty I’ve ripped mine to
Shreds, put a bullet in the filing cabinet, removed

The one with my name, and burned in the flames
And when Lucifer came knocking at my door I
Met him with holy water and four silver bullets
In a chamber I never wanted to know, and the

Torture was slow but never slower than waiting
On you, that is one undeniable truth, I pass people
On the streets still dancing to the beat of that ring
Tone, in belief that they will never know the kind of

Suffering they have heard of, if only they got the few
Minutes they deserved, they would gladly pay their
Souls, your herd, without their shepherd, and they
Sometimes ask when I turned my back on it and

When I branded myself with the word atheist and
I guess it was when I became sick of this waiting
Around for a saviour who’s never even heard the
Sound of my prayers, you can keep your heavenly

Stairs, and when its my time to go, I won’t come
Knocking at your door, like some poorly
Peasant to a king’s palace, purgatory has
A nice ring to it, they don’t have any phones there.

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