I refuse to pray, because God made me the stubborn kind
There ain’t no conversation with the Lord, gonna ease my mind
The whiskey and the wanting have become my bad act of contrition
Christ in Heaven above have you heard a more scornful admission?
 
Our Father, Mother Mary and a lifetime of unholy ghosts
Follow me to bed each night watching over while I scan my posts
There ain’t a soul ever born whoever liked a self-pitying fool
There ain’t a fool ever died whoever loved being sad and cruel
 
Like a cat on a cushion on a chair watching the falling rain
I’ve spent my time idly wasting or too often adding to the pain
Sweet Jesus don’t give up on a man with a sullied mind
It was my firm understanding that the Lord is not the quitting kind
 
Every break comes my way at the end of a stumbling fall
And this trip we are enduring has all hope slowing to a crawl
Jesus wept when he saw his Daddy’s fallibility in me
Ain’t it hard when you find it ain’t all that it’s cracked up to be
 
I’ve got chapter and verse telling me that I will never belong
I’ve had preachers telling me every thought I ever thought was wrong
I’ve found no comfort in the love from above that my soul has been craving
I’ve seen no reason to believe that a soul such as mine is worth saving
 
Like a cat on a cushion on a chair watching the falling rain
I’ve spent my time idly waiting or too often adding to the pain
Sweet Jesus don’t give up on a lamb with a worried mind
It was my firm understanding that the Lord’s not the quitting kind
 
I’ve got a midnight mind thinking thoughts that’d peel the paint off a house
a reputation well earned as a shortsighted long-suffering louse
My nightly ritual erodes my soul in this stagnant stalemate war of attrition
The Devil below has me ledgered in red, an outstanding but a welcome addition
 
Like a cat on a cushion on a chair watching the falling rain
I’ve spent my time idly wasting or too often adding to the pain
Sweet Jesus don’t give up on a man with a hurried mind
It was my firm understanding that the Lord’s not the quitting kind
 
What kind of man runs aground – before his ship’s left the shore?
What kind of woman sticks around – when there’s so much more?
Lord help me embrace the blessings and quit carrying your cross
Lord help me to believe that the gains are outweighing the loss
 
Like a cat on a cushion on a chair watching the falling rain
I’ve spent my time idly waiting or too often adding to the pain
Sweet Jesus don’t give up on a lamb with a weathered mind
It was my firm understanding that the Lord’s not the quitting kind
I want to believe my sweet Lord we’re not the quitting kind