Verse
He held me in the river in my Sunday best,
(hold your breath, child)
Counted up to seven for the wickedness,
I came up gasping with the congregation singing,
Mud in my ears and the church bell ringing,
They wrapped me in a blanket, told me I was new,
(brand new, they said)
But I felt for the sin, and the sin felt it too,
Second time under, and the current ran grey,
I came up spitting, and it didn't go away.
Hook
Twice in the river and I came up dry,
(Lord, it didn't take)
The sin held its breath a lot longer than I,
Sit me on the mourner's bench, they're waiting on the shake,
(any minute now)
I'm sitting very still, and I'm wide awake.
Banjo Solo
Verse
He reads me my wrongs off a list on the stand,
(chapter and verse)
The smokes on the pew, the cards in my hand,
The gin in the hymnal, the dice in my shoe,
He read every word, and all of it's true,
Then the book fell open on a page torn out,
(whose was that?)
And the preacher went red, and he started to shout,
So judge me, Reverend, I'll take what I'm due,
But the water runs cold for a preacher too.
Hook
Twice in the river and I came up dry,
(Lord, it didn't take)
The sin held its breath a lot longer than I,
Sit me on the mourner's bench, they're waiting on the shake,
(any minute now)
I'm sitting very still, and I'm wide awake.
Breakdown
[Spoken] "Created by DarkPrincess -- Royalty of the Night"
Fiddle Solo
Refrain
Brimstone on the Sunday air,
(smell it, sinner)
Sulphur in the preacher's hair,
Judgment's coming down the valley road,
(here it comes)
Bring a bigger ledger, I'm a heavy load.
Verse
The deacons came at dusk with a lantern and rope,
(somebody hold it steady)
Said a third go's the charm, it's the last bit of hope,
They knotted my wrists with a length of twine,
Sang Rock of Ages, slow and out of line,
The clay on the bank sucked my boots right off,
(let them go)
And somebody's aunt gave a satisfied cough,
They swung me out wide like a sack of grain,
And I laughed on the way, and I'd do it again.
Hook
Third time they threw me, I floated on top,
(that settles it, then)
And the hymn in the tent came to a stop,
Floating means guilty, so call it a sin,
(amen)
I'm drifting downriver with the collection tin.
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