In the front rows
Where the saints reside
My clothes are thrown apart
And I close the blinds
The world tips
And the bottled ship sinks
If a word slips
The church tune begins
Stopping and going
Playing the unmistaken hymn
And the room is desolated
As I leave it in its closed state
And my life is wasted
But as we all know
Despite attending the mass
Drunkenness decreases as if time goes
And so we say the prayer of Amen
And leave the pews
Once again.