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We bring in our patrons with a neon light


Service begins the moment the sun dims


 


We testify through burning cigarettes


Hymns stutter out of lips soaked in gin  


 


We collect payment from a basket dusted by broken shells


Confessions slip between the counter and a bartender's whim


 


We search for God after the empty glass hits the felt table


Last call comes with a broken bell 


 


We slide from the vinyl pews with our eyes on another dawn 


The doors close, but we'll be back with pockets full of sin



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Vinyl Pews