Stealthy as a stag,
Careful as my dad in his garage
I got you into bed
You smelled like cigarettes and rosewater
And in this post-connection climate,
You go asking what my sign is
When I tell you that's not science,
You get out of bed
At a temple in the badlands,
Outside a city in the slabs,
I felt every prayer that was ever prayed on my behalf
And said my own:
Don't give up on me!
When I was out on tour,
For forty years or more (is how it felt)
My friends were better sports
As I tried to cram the LORD into their throats
Doing right by my employer?
Or becoming the Destroyer?
My mother sits embroidering her scriptures
While at a temple in the badlands,
Outside a city in the slabs,
I felt every prayer that was ever prayed on my behalf
And said my own:
Don't give up on me
At a temple in the badlands,
I prayed
