(Kurt Stevenson, Patrick Winningham, & Chris Boesel)
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I'm an outcast that no one can save anymore
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and the days of my youth, have all long gone by
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I was the kind of boy the devil would offer a
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smoke or a drink to or a ride downtown to some God forsaken land.
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One Sunday morning at dawn you know they baptized my soul
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but they held me down so long Christ I almost drowned
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Yeah I was the kind of boy who never learned to smile
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so I kicked and I screamed
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'till I tore myself lose from all
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these great big hands Oh Yeah Chorus:
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Wiseblood knows I walk the way the wind blows
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Wiseblood hears grace whisper right behind
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My momma, she turned around and said
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"Little boy you better wake up.... cause you're the walking dead"
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Oh she was the kind a girl
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who never touched a smoke or a drink she just smoldered like an empty church left to burn in the wind
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Wiseblood
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| Counting Crows |
