By Savanna Landrum

Take me out of this Jonestown.

Where prayer requests and Kool-aid quench the same thirst

Past The Promised Land —

where a quiet sinner burns.

Bear your cross,

your crown of thorns

Across from the Temple,

the Promised Paradise.

Leaving is sinning —

freedom, a vice

JESUS LOVES YOU!

The congregation does not.

They love the gossip,

the cheat,

the abuser,

and the drunk.

JESUS FORGIVES YOU!

The People do not.

They renounce the honest,

the lonely,

the starved,

and the sorry.

A vagabond.

An outcast.

A misfit.

A liar.

All of which I am,

all of which I’m not.

Getaway driver,

take me home

through the fires

to the streets of gold.

Take my heart,

drive out of sight —

as if it’s stolen

through every red light.

77 in a 55,

blue lights behind us.

Where does glory lie?

There is no ‘revolutionary act’

that you can do —

take off your Nikes,

paint me black and blue.

Plastic bag over the head,

‘let’s see a smile!’

The world is ending,

please, sit — play a while.

What’s real is real,

and what’s real is not.

Take me out of this Jonestown —

or I’ll end up who I’m not