ONE BY ONE
I live down here in the Sunshine State.
I go to church Sunday mornings at eight.
But our congregation is inching toward none
Because we’re dying off, one by one.
The troops are assembled in rickety formation,
Waiting for damnation or hopefully, salvation.
We’re rusty tin soldiers marching single-file,
Right off a cliff into a big, rusty pile.
Some have walkers, others, oxygen tanks,
Many can no longer kneel in thanks.
Some can’t hear the sermon at all,
Most live in dread of a fatal fall.
Now that’s OK, I don’t mind.
Our infirmities are the ties that bind.
Over the cliff my faith I’ll take,
In the meantime, boy, these old knees ache.
