The Preacher Lyrics

You don't have the soul that the blues man brings

You don't have the story that the preacher sings

Playing all day let it take it's course

Because the magic dies when its being forced

No place to be but a story to tell

They say you can't play the blues unless you've been to hell

This music should be what breaks it all

To bridge the gap so we don't fall

Into the trap where we each come from

Prejudice daughter racist son

It's getting old

I'm getting tired of what I keep getting told

I don't want to be a thief in the night

But if you play with feel

Play with soul

Who's going to care if these hands can't play it right

No my anger can't compare to that

No I don't bare the scars just wear the hat

Devil and his naked tongue

When will that seize to run

And you might say what gives me the right

To preach about a problem I don't have to fight

But why should I turn a blind eye

For this mess to still be rusting when I die

Its getting old

I'm getting tired of what I keep getting told

I don't want to be a thief in the night

But if you play with feel

Play with soul

Who's going to care if these hands can't play it right

Its getting old

I'm getting tired of what I keep getting told

I don't want to be a thief in the night

But if you play with feel

Play with soul

Who's going to care if these hands can't play it right