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Smoke Filled Church
In his smoke filled church
Seated at a one man pew.
Many men know the weight
On the soles of his shoes.
Every nickel and dime
Thrown to the brown shrine.
Reflections of worn faces
Pass off half empty time.
The priest is hurriedly
Taking his donations.
He forgives the sins of a
Convicted mans damnation.
The cross bears no saint
But a tattered man lingers.
In his smoke filled church
No sinner points fingers.
