It could be your southern drawl Or how you limp when you walk That makes me wanna say All those things I never could Schoolboy crush carved into 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 peeking out You work until it goes back down The days are all the same 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," What about the rest of me? My faith can't take the weight Summers came and left for Fall Ten thankless years of working hard The school bell rings, the kids come home But you still feel like you're alone 'cause your husband holds his whiskey gla** Tighter than our hero's past Rip those black beads off your throat
And swap them out for a knotted rope The end is your only friend Ears are full of rushing blood You say the things you never could Pray the Lord that you will see That my eyes bulge out and my body swing 'Cause now I finally understand Jesus is like every man He tells you what you want to hear Until you fall in love, then 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 are all 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 to 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 are all victims of warped expectations When people can't save us, we suddenly hate them