Smoke on Sunday

I came in quiet, with a calm on my face

Pocket full of verses, heavy with grace

Old floorboards talk when I step in the room

Little smoke, big promise, I read that too soon

Horn say one thing, then I answer back

Seen a lot of good men lose sight of the track

But I kept my name where the truth can stay

Kept my hands clean on the edge of the day

Mm, I know the road gets cold

Mm, but the root still grow

Every scar got a story to tell

Every low tide know the well

I rise, I rise

With smoke on Sunday

I rise, I rise

When the floor sways under me

I rise, I rise

With smoke on Sunday

I rise, I rise

And the whole room sings with me

Back of the church, by the cracked red seat

Mama said patience got its own heartbeat

Now I move slow, but I move with proof

Every chain in the air got a loosened tooth

I don't chase gold when the ground is kind

I keep one eye open and one on the sky

If the night get loud, let the silence preach

If the well run deep, let the thirsty reach

Mm, I know the road gets cold

Mm, but the root still grow

Every scar got a story to tell

Every low tide know the well

I rise, I rise

With smoke on Sunday

I rise, I rise

When the floor sways under me

I rise, I rise

With smoke on Sunday

I rise, I rise

And the whole room sings with me

Low voices call my name

Then the whole place leans that way

What was buried won't stay down

Watch it bloom through the ground

I rise, I rise

With smoke on Sunday

I rise, I rise

When the floor sways under me

I rise, I rise

With smoke on Sunday

I rise, I rise

And the whole room sings with me