This Sunday

Here He lies Playing pretend in the hall  Writing science fiction Matching our description  Wondering why They built it then watched it fall No time, stop your bitching Decide what's been missing Alone in the chaos  But what about the lord?  Does he get bored  When buying things he can't afford  Never had He thought We'd wield His mighty sword Then Aim it toward The chapel of the ones ignored Telling them that someday  Or maybe this Sunday  He'll play along  In the skies I think I see heaven now Won't you join our kingdom Lay down, rest that wisdom Those white lies    Lending a hand to heading down  Oh, to face the villain  Or face what I have hidden  Alone in the chaos  But what about the lord?  The metaphors  I memorized but never swore   Man made and brainwashed   Reaching into my drawer  In need of more If he can see, could he ignore All I can do is pray  Or maybe this Sunday  He'll play along  Corrupted souls, the faithless Christ worshippers, the nameless Lift up your souls, lift up your shame  Heres to the ones who made it Someday when we are ageless Why not just share what we became