Months of Sundays bleed into each other,  
instead of facing the world we run for cover.

Moving on but something's missing. 
What you thought was the mainstream 
is just another rut: 
another pentecostal, charismatic, 
speaking in tongues, raising your hands, 
full gospel businessmen's, 
women's aglow, praise the lord, 
songs of the kingdom, street witnessing 
church hopping, Toronto-pepsicola 
view of religion that gave away grace in favour of law 
until another congregation spilt  and walked out the door.

Head full of yesterday's miracles 
and urban legends of angels on assignment,
time-warp preachers in two places at once 
and missionary tales in far off colourful lands 
where thousands are healed at the touch of a hand. >>