It could be your southern drawl or how you limp when you walk
That makes me want to say all those things I never could
A school boy crush carved into the wood that fades in the rain
You were born in a Baptist house with a rusty spoon inside your
mouth
The taste didn't go away and when the sun comes peaking out
You work until it goes back down the days are all the same
With a baby boy strapped to your hip and a tiny cut above your
lip
That states god doesn't save everyone who buys his book, some of
us
Get overlooked in a way it's a shame
But you still walk in his light and say the same words every
night
I pray the lord my soul to keep, but what about the rest of me?
My faith can't take the weight
The summers came and left like fall, ten thankless years of
working hard
The school bell rings, the kids come home, but you feel like
you're alone
Because your husband holds his whiskey glass tighter than a
hero's past
You rip those black beads off your throat and swap them out for
a knotted rope
The end is your only friend
You use that final rush of blood to say the things you never
could
I pray the lord that you will see my eyes bulge out and my body
swing
Because now I finally understand that jesus is like every man
He tells you what you want to hear until you fall in love, and
he disappears
My faith couldn't take the weight
When the weight of the world falls square on your shoulders
A pin prick or missed call can somehow destroy you
We all are victims of warped expectations, when people can't
save us we suddenly hate them
So much in fact that we lose our grasp on reality, the
responsibility that we have for ourselves
And everybody else, when the weight of the world falls square on
your shoulders
A pin prick or missed call can somehow destroy you.
We all are victims of warped expectations when people can't save
us
We suddenly hate them
