Jesus

Sunday suit, crooked tie, coffee tasting like regret,
Pastor’s preaching “love thy neighbor” while the ushers place bets.
In this made-up little chapel, secrets bloom behind the pews,
Some holy-rolling creeps got caught—now they’re answering the news.
The good folks call for daylight, not a hush and not a prayer
For a rotten-ass institution that won’t own what happened there.


Then Jesus kicked the side door open, shades on, grinning wide:
“Buddy, grab your controller. We’ve got nowhere to hide.”


We got high with Jesus, played Crash Bandicoot,
He spun through the living room and kicked my ass in a fruit.
Uncle’s in the freezer, yelling, “Shut that damn door!”
He’s alive, he lost a bet, and he’s hogging all the sorbet.
Hallelujah, holy shit, the night’s a crooked ride—
Jesus took the warp-room shortcut and left me far behind.

Spending all time with jesus right next to me
He spends a little too much time looking at little kids feet
He doesnt even stare little bit discreet
I find it disgusting but but he finds it sexy


Uncle said, “I’ll chill in here; I’m sweating through my shirt,”
Now he’s making freezer angels in his long johns and a skirt.
He’s banging on the ice tray like a drummer in a band:
“Bring me nachos, bring me bourbon, and a blanket for my hands!”
Jesus found the spare controller, said, “Let’s make this weird,”
Then Aku Aku bonked my forehead and my dignity disappeared.


The choir’s singing off-key, the tambourine’s possessed,
Uncle’s yelling “I’m a popsicle!” through his freezer-chest.


We got high with Jesus, played Crash Bandicoot,
He spun through the living room and kicked my ass in a fruit.
Uncle’s in the freezer, yelling, “Shut that damn door!”
He’s alive, he lost a bet, and he’s hogging all the sorbet.
Hallelujah, holy shit, the night’s a crooked ride—
Jesus took the warp-room shortcut and left me far behind.


No more hiding bad behavior underneath a hymn,
No more “trust the robe” when the truth is looking grim.
Call the cops, protect the kids, let the daylight hit the stain—
Then pass the holy controller; I’m challenging him again.
Jesus says, “That’s a good start. Now quit stealing my fries.”
Uncle says, “I’m thawing out!” from his frosty little icebox surprise.


At dawn we hit the driveway with a cooler full of snacks,
Uncle climbed out shivering, demanding his pants back.
The church bells rang like warning bells, the neighbors shook their heads,
Jesus beat me at the bonus round and blessed my aching legs.
We left the chapel doors wide open, let the questions fill the air—
Then Uncle yelled, “Next time, losers, put the freezer on a chair!”


We got high with Jesus, played Crash Bandicoot,
He spun through the living room and kicked my ass in a fruit.
Uncle’s out the freezer, now he’s stealing all the pie,
Jesus says, “That’s not a miracle,” and winks as we say bye.
Hallelujah, holy shit, the night was glorified—
By a bandicoot, a chilly uncle, and a Savior with a high score.


Uncle’s thawed, the console’s fried,
The church has got some truth to find.
Jesus took the last cold beer—
And Crash is still the one we fear.

Dreamy, Happy, Epic, Playful, Uplifting, Male Vocals