For some reason it’s heightened on Sundays.
I don’t know why but I feel like I need to try and explain what I’m thinking.
Maybe for the people who knew me then but don’t know who I am now.
But that’s probably pride.
Hell its a lie if I say it’s for anyone but me.
I wish some preachers would recognize that line.
It’s like old Johnny cash.
Sunday morning coming down.
I can feel the lies being spun all around.
We got so lost in the murk
Worried about which name to call him.
We forgot the blood cries out from the ground.
And I’m thinking that’s what we’ll be judged on.
And if we’re honest we’ll admit it.
That we have failing grades.
That we’ve done nothing to stop the hemorrhaging.
Hell we voted it in.
on this Sunday morning coming down.