she awakens on that tainted morn a dull throb tween her eyes
the memory of her first time already padlocked in her mind
his piercing gaze had turned her school dress to gauze
the noon's heat baked the road and flushed her freckled face
when he asked her it was as if it was god's command
she tried her girl guide best to push the yes away
holy preacher had his dirty way with her
a suffering witness, she couldn't scrub his filth away
saturday matinees with a tainted saint
their woeful cries filled the cotton fields
sunday burning when the rapture comes
they come in peace but they leave in pain
his parish imagined he pulled up stakes and moved along
another tag along preacher headin ta where good folks are in need
their basket children left behind to deal with gropin hands
drinkin an tryin their wretched best to forget his deeds
no one discovered the holy slaughter down at the abbatoir
he met his bitter end pants down beggin on the killing floor
now she flies down back roads - head thrown back laughin at the sky
she's painted sunday red for the ones that came before
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