Lord, preserve me from The Righteous.

Let’s have some decadence and depravity round here.

The world was never saved by po faced saints, it’s the sinners who do the good shit.

They are the ones who live in the stuff, and when the time comes, and it’s the right time, it’s they who know how to shovel.

The Righteous are so sure of their place, they don’t have the doubts that we do.

Life’s not right and wrong, it’s about bad and worse.

Renewal each morning means a clean shirt each day. The old one goes into the wash.

With its stains and its sins, they don’t see it again until it’s spotless and ironed on the shelf.

But, most of us here, we don’t get that choice, we have to go on with what’s left.

We choose between gravy and ketchup or egg and socks that don’t walk on their own.

And yesterday’s sweat and the smell of our faults. Did we borrow, or was it just theft?

We’d like to be good, but there’s really not time. We’re busy just keeping afloat.

Why lend you a hand to reach the dry land when I’m treading water myself?

But I won’t see you drown, I’ll try to reach down and pull you up level with me.

Because I know what it feels like.

And that’s all it takes.

Tomorrow I know I will be just the same.

I know right from wrong, but rarely meet either. I just pick through the mess that life leaves. From broken dreams and grubby deeds I try to patch something that floats.

I do what I must just to somehow get by. I know that I won’t get it right.

But, I will keep on trying. Not to do what is right, but something just slightly less wrong.

Yet, somehow I feel as I stare at the night and reflect on the wreck of each day,

That I’ll try just once more to clear up the mess and maybe find something that’s good.

Saving the world is so great a task.

But, maybe

That’s all that it takes.