Dolce Far Niente

God comes to my house every single day
and there's not one day He's not there.
It's not like I ask Him to be there;
He just is.

He doesn't knock;
that's not His style;
He waits and He waits,
He waits for me to come to Him,
Not that I think I’m God or anything,
but He knows I'll get desperate enough.

He doesn't stand to attention,
or smile like a Jehovah's witness.
He just waits,
like a real best friend,
waiting for me to laugh my guts out.

I know He's out there
and He knows that
I know He's out there,
but only I can let Him in.
He knows that.

I can't play tricks on God,
like I do with my best friend.
God doesn't buy tricks:
He’s way too clever.
He just sighs and looks away,
waiting for me to invite Him in,
like a Labrador,
only a zillion times better.

Some days, when I feel shitty,
I don't let Him in.
It's not like I don't want to,
it's just that I miraculously forget He's there.
I rant and rave at all my problems,
and lie to myself all day long
that it's all because of Him,
so I don't let Him in.

I forget things I was supposed to do,
chase my tail round the house,
get exhausted just thinking about
making a cup of tea.
A crap is about the most constructive thing
that I can manage,
all because I wouldn't let Him in.

Other days, when I reckon I feel great,
I still don't let Him in.
Why bother when I feel this good?
I don't need anybody!
Then I start thinking about all the idiots I don't like.
I wonder why they hate me
and why they won't let me in their click.

I might prance around the house,
blow myself idiot kisses in the mirror,
sit and watch other people screwing up,
but when I call a few friends,
they can see right through me.
When the phones goes,
I can't even answer it.
By the time I feel OK again,
I’m whacked and it's time to go to bed.

It's only on the no-hope days
that I let Him in,
and it's weird because
I have to get that low
to remember that He was always there,
but only I can let Him in.

On these no-hoper days,
I wake up and something changes.
All the enemies I invented have gone,
the wars I saw coming never even happened.
God's been at my door all this time,
so maybe I should let Him in.

This is when I get really worried,
worried that He's gone forever.
He's seen enough of my bullshit,
seen me wank and heard me slating Him.
What if He really did go?
Jesus H Christ!
I'd be finished.

When I open the door,
there He is waiting for me like a long lost friend
but it's not Him that's lost,
it's me,
lost in that house without Him.

I ask Him in
and He's happy to join me.
I'm shy at first because I know
He's seen me do and think awful things
and heard me call Him a fake,
but He knows I'm only human.

We sit together and I feel better.
I knew all along he'd forgive me;
He doesn't forsake anyone,
only people do that,
they use Him to shit on people they don’t like,
but I can't even be bothered to hate them;
not now He's with me.

My mind empties all the rubbish,
He opens my heart
and shows it to me
and tells me that
we can share it if I want.

See, this isn't my house at all,
this is God's house,
and when God's not here,
nor the hell am I.
I may as well watch ants eat a biscuit,
which takes forever and is very boring.

When He's not in here with me,
I may as well be asleep.
This house is just a machine in a shell,
a factory full of clutter and rubbish
churning it into more clutter and rubbish.

In fact, I'm not even in a house!
That had you, didn't it!
See, my house is my head
and it goes everywhere I go.
So long as God's in it with me,
I can make all my dreams come true.

It's not so easy,
and I often think He's gone,
but it's always me that leaves Him.
He's always there really.
It's only me that goes missing.