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Rated: E · Poetry · Religious · #2244215
an old church down the street...
Passing A Church

The old Methodist church;
The home for many things.
Sometimes in her old dusty loft
I still imagine a choir sings;
Something about golden chariots
And angels with gossamer wings.

The home for many things,
Sometimes in her old dusty loft
I still imagine a choir sings.
Something about golden chariots
And angels with gossamer wings;
The old Methodist church.

Sometimes in her old dusty loft
I still imagine a choir sings,
Something about golden chariots
And angels with gossamer wings.
The old Methodist church,
The home for many things.

I still imagine a choir sings;
Something about golden chariots
And angels with gossamer wings.
The old Methodist church;
The home for many things.
Sometimes in her old dusty loft

Something about golden chariots
And angels with gossamer wings
The old Methodist church;
The home for many things.
Sometimes in her old dusty loft
I still imagine a choir sings.

And angels with gossamer wings;
The old Methodist church,
The home for many things.
Sometimes in her old dusty loft
I still imagine a choir sings,
Something about golden chariots.

The old Methodist church;
The home for many things.
Sometimes in her old dusty loft
I still imagine a choir sings;
Something about golden chariots
And angels with gossamer wings.
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