| My ol' man was a contradiction
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| A real hard man to figure
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| He’d read the King James Bible
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| While sippin' on corn liquor
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| He’d get drunk, and he’d get to preachin'
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| Right out on the porch
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| Alternatin' between cussin' and a prayin'
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| Spittin' and a praisin' the Lord
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| No doubt about it
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| He was a man of both extremes
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| He had his share of demons
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| But on Jesus he would lean
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| He’d say, «Fly high like the angels
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| Run wild like the devil
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| We’re all tryin' to find the middle
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| Between saint and sinner, wrong and right
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| Sunday morning and saturday night. |
| «Well, I have sung «Amazing Grace,» hymnal in my hand
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| Played «Stairway To Heaven» in a three piece pick up band
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| I know the straight and narrow is the path that I should take
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| But out here in the fast lane, you tend to get a little sideways
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| I still hear him preachin'
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| Slurrin' his words a bit
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| Sayin' the thing about temptation
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| Is it’s so hard to resist
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| Back then I didn’t realize
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| The wisdom in the sermon
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| It took a while to understand
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| The lesson I’m still learnin'
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| Saint and sinner, wrong and right
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| Sunday morning and Saturday night
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| He said, «Fly high like the angels.» |