PEW

         Sunday's here, it's time for church
         Your routine sharply honed
         Out the door by five past ten
         Alert and finely toned
         Putting right your stack of sins
         As you walk up the road
         You'll be ready for the start
         Cause all your weeds are hoed.

         Sitting in your special pew
         Where you have sat for years
         You know that if you had to move
         You'd be beset with tears
         It wouldn't be the same, you fear
         The blessings and the touch
         Only happens in your pew
         Elsewhere, not so much.

         I'm sure that God's not choosy
         When visiting His flock
         Not bound by where His creatures sit
         Not tethered by the clock
         The church of His beloved ones
         Are equal in His sight
         So open up yourselves to Him
         Receive what He thinks right.