Millworker houses lined up in a row Another southern sunday's morning glow Beneath the steeple all the people had begun Shaking hands with the man who grips the gospel gun While the quiet prayer, the smell of dinner on the ground Fills up the morning air, ain't nothing sweeter around I can almost hear my mama pray Oh Lord forgive us when we doubt Another sacred sunday in the south, alright A ragged rebel flag flies high above it all Popping the wind like an angry cannon ball Now the coals of history are cold and still But they still smell the powder burning, and they probaly always will And on the old town square, under the barber shop pole They sit me up in the chair, when I was four years old I can almost hear my papa say Won't you hold still, son, stop squirming around Another southern sunday's comin' down I can almost hear the old folks say You made it big, one day you'll leave this town Some other lazy sunday, you'll be back around I can feel the evening sun go down And all the lights in the houses one by one go out Softly in the distance, nothing stirs about And the night is filled with the sound of a whipporwill Want a sunday in the south, alright Just another sunday in the south Oh, another sacred sunday in the south How I miss them old sweet sundays in the south I can hear my mama calling, in the south, alright Oh-oh-oh In the south Bu döküman AkorMerkezi.com'da yayınlanmıştır. http://www.akormerkezi.com