Drunk Text Message To God by George Watsky
I’m not trying to brag or anything but I’m going to tell you about my night last night Had a couple beers, ya know Yeah, got a little tipsy Got a little existential crisis-y Last night I drunk text messaged God I just wanted to tell him I’d been thinkin’ about him A lot And to tell him I’m stalking a church I meant to write starting a church No one spells drunk texts right, anyway Last night I sent out a buttload of embarrassing texts and then copied them to everyone I know Like “Yo” Like “Sup” I was out sinning Curled in a bed The room is spinning It’s all in my head I can’t get to sleep And the weight of the world Is the weight of my sheets Here’s the great thing about my church: You can keep your religion ‘cause my church is for those of us who grew up wishing we believed in an afterlife And for those of us who were so close to god we could practically lean over and make out with her My church is sick of bloody crusades to the march of drum corps I’ll start a church that gets pissed off and starts thumb wars Maybe a church that gets Mondays off for religion reasons A church that throws phone parties in elevators to learn about praise The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire We’ll dance as it burns for 8 magical days That was a Jewish reference No offense to Gideon bibles but my church goes into hotel rooms and fills up the drawers with chocolate pillow mints And my church, if you choose to come to Sunday school, you don’t learn about hell Hell no You eat Jon Stewart and Steven Colbert shaped potato chips and watch Chapelle’s show My church had 10 commandments, 5 precepts, and a workplace abuse handbook but we partied hard last week and I think we left them in a restroom at Chuckie Cheese Now we just go by a picture of a heart that I found on a bar napkin My church tongue-kissed your mom last night Um, I’m just kidding She left 5 red fingers across my face We hung out with the creator I think she loves you She’s beautiful She’s got ‘daughter’ tattooed on her left bicep ‘Son’ on her right My church is at the center of the planet and has the most amazing stained-glass windows The glass is the floor of the ocean The colors are where you look up and see blue and a manatee I love manatees And the forest canopy Tony Montana comes to my church and forgets he left his cocaine in the car We play “Stairway to Heaven” on Hendrix’s broken guitar My church gets fucked up on communion wine Asks lamp posts to be our Valentine My church bar hops together And my church, if you don’t blow yourself to smitherines, you get 17 virgins in a room to yourself Or you go and play Starfox together My church got beat up by the skateboard kids for being a rollerblade kid But rolled to school the next day on one skate and 2 crutches True to the fight With a fist in the air Screaming “fruit Buddhas unite!” My church can feel it’s pulse in it’s fingertips Has 3 stomachs because our fear is hard to swallow But love always has room My church has a love bladder and always asks to go to the bathroom There are drawbacks of course: My church will not resurrect your dead hamster My church will not play for keeps Wear Versace Give out baby Jesus Tomagachi’s And Tom Cruise thinks my church sucks balls I’m not Jesus Christ But I can turn water into Kool-Aid And I’m not Jim Jones But my church is like, totally a cult And everyone drinks the Kool-Aid And everyone dies! But for some people the Kool-Aid doesn’t kick in until you’re 105 Surrounded by everyone who matters most to you Yes, some of us go early, but at my church you have to think about that possibility ‘Cause my church makes you scared I’m talkin’ like waves of fear Like you’re lying awake at night And you pull the blankets up to your neck And your covers are like a tsunami of fear And you start hyperventilating Thinking about how you’re getting older way faster than your dreams are getting accomplished About how skinny your arms are About how fat your tummy is About how much it’s gonna suck to eventually lose the power to think about all the badass stuff we do at our church Don’t fall asleep yet Contrary to popular belief, that’s not where dreams get accomplished The body of Christ is your body The body of Buddha be your body Your body be usable Your body be suitable Your body beautiful You don’t need anything different Keep your broken cell phones Don’t delete your text messages You might read those stupid-ass, Badly spelled rants over on a Sunday morning With a pounding headache… And have a religious experience.
