The Preacher Lyrics

I'm the son of a preacher who cares for all our lives

And the choir he preaches must always be on time

But he'll come around and ask them for the limelight

And to cover all the dirt with flower and cloth

We can try a whirlwind and not get flung up

We can get close and pray to a million stars

Say we're always conned and always falling out

But I know deep down it'll be he who falls into the wine

Caving to my demons over nought

Turn it over and make it all stop.

Heading on a flight, heading on the top

Turn around, and you're taking off your mask

Robes and crosses alight.

Holding up the cup

But I know that I'll get stuck

But I know I'll get up and walk away from the lot

So hold your line

Hold your line

I'm the son of a crescent moon, bright, broken in light

And she shines on a derelict church where sits a wildfire

The creaking of the boards sets up a funeral pyre

But I won't care much; to care is up to the next buyer

But I won't care much; to care is up to the next buyer