Sunday In the South (Live)

Millworker houses lined up in a row
Another southern sunday's mornin' glow
Beneath the steeple all the people have begun
Shakin' hands with the man who grips the gospel gun

While in quiet prayer, the smell of dinner on the ground
Fills up the mornin' air, ain't nothin' sweeter around
I can almost hear my mama prayin'
Oh Lord forgive us when we doubt
Another sacred sunday in the south, alright

A ragged rebel flag flies high above it all
Poppin' in the wind like an angry cannon ball
Now the coals of history are cold and still
But they still smell the powder burnin', and they probably always will

And on the old town square, under the barber shop pole
They set me up in the chair, when I was four years old
I can almost hear my papa sayin'
Won't you hold still, son, stop squirmin' around
Another southern sunday's comin' down

I can almost hear them old folks sayin'
You'll make it big, one day you'll leave this town
Some other lazy sunday, you'll be back around. Alright
I can feel the evenin' sun go down

All the lights in the houses one by one go out
Softly in the distance, nothin' stirs about
And the night is filled with the sound of a whipporwill
On a sunday in the south, alright

Just another sunday
(Another sacred sunday in the south)
Just another sunday
I can hear my mama callin'
Oh-oh-oh
Just another sunday
How I miss the old sweet sunday
Just another sunday

(In the south)
Just another sunday
I can hear my mama callin'
Oh-oh-oh
In the south
Just another sunday
Just another sunday
Just another sunday
In the south
I can hear my mama callin'
In the south