The Jehovah's Pitch

The Jehovah's Pitch

The doorbell rings
And there they stand
Pitying looks,
Bible in hand.

Pristine suits,
Perfect hair,
I know their game
I’ve had my share.

My soul is lost,
But they can find it.
“No thanks,”
I’d rather mind it.

Perhaps I’m wrong,
Who can say?
I’m open minded
Every day.

They’re disappointed
As I shut the door,
But I know they’ll be back,
To pray some more.

I didn’t invite you,
Don’t come again,
If Jesus shows up
I’ll tell you when.