God is running through you so hard You crumple into your entertainment center. Get a tan, you pray, run, Blisters and lesions on your mouth and your tongue. With your Bible open the pain is a joke, You hold onto a girl’s hand while her hair never moves.
She has on a dress vest of thick red mealy fabric, (gestures) A flight of zippers, this cheap navy blue skirt. I agree—her excruciatingly holding out was hot, Intellectually, but why try that here? You could punch holes into most of the Strip’s architectural follies with a child’s golf club toy,
“The same goes for our Megachurch, brother. But we won’t do it to these women.” What about That song your daughter did? That kid is religious, I almost wish we could harvest that belief level For our next big outreach—we’re going to Trick God into coming out of his hiding place.