Lyrics to Birmingham
I'm goin' back to Birmingham;
gotta hear long Libba sing.
Mud and steel they take me back
to where I first left everything.
Bitter vine beats a line
up to my back dorr.
Covers all that could have been;
what's not forgotten gets ignored.
And it's in the blood and in the mud
where the light turns red in his hand.
And it's in the blood and in the mud
down in Birmingham.
Been a long time since yesterday
when the water and dogs had somethin' to say.
But it runs so deep and cuts so wide
be a long, long time to the other side.
The wounded pride gets baked inside
the cakes of the WMU.
And we know what's said when we turn our heads
but don't know what more we can do.
And it's in the blood and in the mud
where the light turns red in his hand.
And it's in the blood and in the mud
down in Birmingham.
Midnight comes without a breeze;
thick and damp behind your knees.
And unless you know, then you don't know
what's been there that won't let go.
And the church pews creak
when the sinners speak'
and the popsicle fans they bittersweet.
'Cause you gotta work to beat the heat
so says the man in the judgment seat.
And it's in the blood and in the mud
where the light turns red in his hand.
And it's in the blood and in the mud
down in Birmingham.
gotta hear long Libba sing.
Mud and steel they take me back
to where I first left everything.
Bitter vine beats a line
up to my back dorr.
Covers all that could have been;
what's not forgotten gets ignored.
And it's in the blood and in the mud
where the light turns red in his hand.
And it's in the blood and in the mud
down in Birmingham.
Been a long time since yesterday
when the water and dogs had somethin' to say.
But it runs so deep and cuts so wide
be a long, long time to the other side.
The wounded pride gets baked inside
the cakes of the WMU.
And we know what's said when we turn our heads
but don't know what more we can do.
And it's in the blood and in the mud
where the light turns red in his hand.
And it's in the blood and in the mud
down in Birmingham.
Midnight comes without a breeze;
thick and damp behind your knees.
And unless you know, then you don't know
what's been there that won't let go.
And the church pews creak
when the sinners speak'
and the popsicle fans they bittersweet.
'Cause you gotta work to beat the heat
so says the man in the judgment seat.
And it's in the blood and in the mud
where the light turns red in his hand.
And it's in the blood and in the mud
down in Birmingham.
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