Summer Early 60's

Summer Early 60's - Carter's Chord/Carolyn Ann Robertson

It' Summer' early 60s and it must be Sunday evening

'Cause you can smell a good revival'

And it's way past our bedtime

There are hell fire brimstone preachers'

There are tongues interpretations'

There are reasons that go deeper'

Than the treason in our souls

But the air is thick' and the night is warm

And the pew's too hard to sleep on

It keeps us straight' no comfort here

This world is not our home

There ain't no mercy for the wicked'

Sing the voices from the choir

Tonight you soul might be required

In the presence of the Lord

Momma leads us past the graveyard'

She knows there's ghosts we have to pass by

And we sure don't want to wake 'em

In the middle of the night

Up ahead we see her walking

She knows there's judgment 'round the corner

But she keeps her pace steady'

Got her bible in her hand

Oh' but daddy sits at home

Got his boots up on the table

And he's watching Bonanaza as he hears the time tick by

He's got cigarettes and coffee

He's got little bean bag ashtrays

He's listenin' to Bonanza' but the clock has got his eye

There ain't no mercy for the wicked'

Sing the voices from the choir

Tonight your soul might be required

In the presence of the Lord

He is standing' now he's pacing

There's a river that runs through him

And he can't call back his anger

As he meets us at the door

There are questions' accusations

Then he strikes' just like a rattler

And his rage it is relentless

Never less than' always more

Feel the fire in the hallway

See the demon in the doorway

Our hearts are beating faster

As we duck between the shouts

We can hear the TV next door

As they push the volume louder

They're convinced it aint' their business

We're just praying' make it stop

There ain't no mercy for the wicked'

Sing the voices from the choir

Tonight your soul might be required

In the presence of the Lord

There ain't no mercy for the wicked'

Sing the voices from the choir

Tonight you soul might be required

In the presence of the Lord

We've got burglar-proof houses

In our neighborhood of secrets

There's no one breaking in here

And nobody getting out