Hospital For Sinners

Some have crosses bells that ringMost have angels painted with wingsOld men and blind ones can find their way inGot statues and apostles and other godly thingsIn desserts they build them of mortar and clayIn barrios they stick them by fire escapesThey outlast the setbacks of earthquakes and plaguesThey burn them like haystacks and another one is raisedIn the backwoods of the country and the empire stateWherever there's somebody at the crossroads that waitsAt the junction of right now and a little too lateYou'll see one before you with wide open gatesIt's a hospital for sinners ain't no museum of saintsThere could be a casket bums on the stepsA baby in a basket being leftIt's a good place to shuffle when you've gone through the deckIt's the closest to heaven on earth you can getIt's a shelter a poor man it'll humble a greatIt's where derelicts and outlaws can hide for a dayThe worst hearts you've known can be salvaged and savedIn the same room that lovers' vows are exchangedIt's a hospital for sinners ain't no museum of saintsYou'll sin till you dropThen ask to be savedIf it's a comeback you wantThen get your hands raisedThere's more than a few on nearly every mapMore than a couple alone on this pathYou ought to be in one when you beg your way backCut off at the knees at its feet you'll collapseIt's a hospital for sinners ain't no museum of saintsIt's a hospital for sinners ain't no museum of saints