| Help me God, to kill the Devil’s tongue
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| The sins of father, sins of the son
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| You really had a plan when you cursed every man
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| With everything he had to have but one
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| A bullet that could kill the Devil’s tongue
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| They say what goes in is bad enough, but what comes out is death
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| Let’s hunt it down and kill it before it takes another breath
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| It’ll sew the seeds of darkness, sew the seeds of doubt
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| And block the truth from ever getting out
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| If you had a chance to take it back you’d lay your money down
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| With a fighting chance to offer up forgiveness by the pound
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| We’ve all been down that street before and up that creek as well
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| Just running from what we can’t ever tell
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| So help me God, to kill the Devil’s tongue
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| The sins of father, sins of the son
|
| You really had a plan when you cursed every man
|
| With everything he had to have but one
|
| A bullet that could kill the Devil’s tongue
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| Some times she’s just a whisper with whiskey on her breath
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| Like a smoke ring through the key hole creeping in like death
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| Sometimes she is a fog horn, sounding in the dark
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| Drowning all the darkness in her heart
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| So help me God, to kill the Devil’s tongue
|
| The sins of father, sins of the son
|
| You really had a plan when you cursed every man
|
| With everything he had to have but one
|
| A bullet that could kill the Devil’s tongue |