Recorded on my reels of tape, the trauma stops my flow, and in your suppression tastes sulfur,
and secretly, come Sunday morning, standing at the pulpit to an empty room
Things didn’t go anywhere close to plan this weekend, but in the end it all made sense: we had to go find some abandoned churches, and Buffalo was the closest place we knew we could do it.
St Mary’s Church, downtown near the Anchor Bar
Sacred Heart, in the First Ward
Trinity Baptist, where I completely forgot to take any pictures of the sanctuary (Shroomdamnit!)
And finally we stopped by Buffalo Malt for some abandoned beers.