His pulpit's a corner on Nineteenth and Main
His grip on the Gospel his one claim to fame He hurls fire and
brimstone at the cars passing by and he offers salvation for the Savior on high.
His khakis are tattered and he ain't bathed in weeks his bout with the bottle
shows up on his cheeks. He looks like a scarecrow a sight to behold as he works for
the Shepherd bringin' lambs to the fold. He points to the Bible he holds in his hands
says, " I'm proof that the Good Lord can save any man."
CHORUS: Son it ain't what you're drivin' or the clothes that you wear, material possessions
won't matter up there. And someday in heaven when the angels all sing these rags
that I'm wearin' will be fit for a king.
(Second verse progression same as first)