| When the trigger’s movin' backwards
|
| And the pin hits the shell
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| When my soul’s sinkin' slowly
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| To the warm pits of hell
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| Won’t you tell my baby sister
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| That I’ll be back in the fall
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| 'Cause it’s better to have false hope
|
| Than no hope at all
|
| And I’ll be meetin' with my savior
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| To go over my foolish deeds
|
| When He asks me why I did it
|
| Lord I’ll blame it on the seed
|
| 'Cause it didn’t grow in like I planned
|
| And when it did it all went dry and
|
| I couldn’t stand to hear the pain
|
| Of a small baby cryin'
|
| Well I remember in the graveyard
|
| Well I used to read the names
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| And I wondered when the Good Lord
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| Would take my soul away
|
| Well I wonder if he planned it to happen
|
| Like this at all
|
| With a shot heard halfway 'cross the world
|
| And my sins on the wall
|
| And I’ll be meetin' with my savior
|
| To go over my foolish deeds
|
| When He asks me why I did it
|
| Lord I’ll blame it on the seed
|
| 'Cause it didn’t grow in like I planned
|
| And when it did it all went dry and
|
| I couldn’t stand to hear the pain
|
| Of a small baby cryin'
|
| And they’ll tell me I’m a bad man
|
| But they’ve never seen the sight
|
| Of a baby wailin' in his crib
|
| And rippin' apart the night
|
| It’s a small baby cryin' |