| It could be your southern drawl
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| Or how you limp when you walk
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| That makes me wanna say
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| All those things I never could
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| Schoolboy crush carved into wood
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| That fades in the rain
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| You were born in a Baptist house
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| With a rusty spoon inside your mouth
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| The taste didn’t go away
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| And when the sun comes peeking out
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| You work until it goes back down
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| The days are all the same
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| A baby boy strapped to your hip
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| And a tiny cut above your lip
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| That states: God doesn’t save
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| Everyone who buys his book
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| Some of us get overlooked
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| In a way, it’s a shame
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| But you still walk in His light
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| And say the same words every night:
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| «I pray the Lord my soul to keep,»
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| What about the rest of me?
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| My faith can’t take the weight
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| Summers came and left for Fall
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| Ten thankless years of working hard
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| The school bell rings, the kids come home
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| But you still feel like you’re alone
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| 'cause your husband holds his whiskey glass
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| Tighter than our hero’s past
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| Rip those black beads off your throat
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| And swap them out for a knotted rope
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| The end is your only friend
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| Ears are full of rushing blood
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| You say the things you never could
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| Pray the Lord that you will see
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| That my eyes bulge out and my body swing
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| 'Cause now I finally understand
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| Jesus is like every man
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| He tells you what you want to hear
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| Until you fall in love, then He disappears
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| My faith couldn’t take the weight
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| When the weight of the world falls square on your shoulders
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| A pin prick or missed call can somehow destroy you
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| We are all victims of warped expectations
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| When people can’t save us, we suddenly hate them
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| So, much in fact, that we lose our grasp on reality
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| The responsibility that we have to ourselves and everybody else
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| When the weight of the world falls square on your shoulders
|
| A pin prick or missed call can somehow destroy you
|
| We are all victims of warped expectations
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| When people can’t save us, we suddenly hate them |