Dear Preacher, thanks for making time for me today, I hope you don't mind if I hide behind the curtain. It's been fifteen years since my last confession; by your good book's standards I sinned like a champion, but that book seems a tad bit outdated.
Please, forgive me for questioning divinity - it's an ugly job but I think I'm up for it. I'm not saying who's right, I'm just saying there's more than one way to skin a religion. There's more than one way to explain our existence.
Reverend Sir, I don't want to seem irreverent, my teenage angst is far behind me. But Father, certainly it's troubling to see all these people kneeling instead of dealing with the fact that we're all we have. So rise up, rise up, there's no one to worship - but plenty of life to lose. I'm not saying, "Let's burn down the churches!" but do you want to hear my confession? It's my greatest sin... (here it is)
I WASTED HALF MY LIFE ON THE THOUGHT THAT I'D LIVE FOREVER.
I wasn't raised to seize the day, but to work and worship 'cause he that liveth and believeth supposedly never dies. Rise up, rise up, live a full life - 'cause when it's over it's done. So, rise up, rise up, dance and scream and love.
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