Well it's hard to get your attention
With those crows flying in your face.
All I know's what my daddy told me,
He said: girl, you're a problem case.
And I'm not a saint, but I can love you like a rock.
And honey, I ain't a sinner,
But I've got some souvenirs from my trip around the block.
I lay down by the angry river
And I watched as the leaves turned brown.
I've got smoke and blood in my pockets
And the mirrors all burned down.
And I'm not a saint, but I know a hymn or two
And I ain't a sinner,
But I wanna go down the cornfields, honey, and spend some time with you.
String me up at the end of morning,
Hold my face to the broken wheat,
Light me up like a graveyard candle,
Bring me down to the painted street.
And I ain't a sinner, but I'll be your lightning rod.
And I'm not a saint,
But I'll bend my knees at the altar, babe, and pretend that you're a god.
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Page last modified on August 05, 2003, at 11:09 AM