 |
|
 |
|
Fit For A King
His pulpit's a corner
On 19th and Main
His grip on the gospel
His one claim to fame
He hurls fire and brimstone
At the cars passing by
And he offers salvation
For the savior on high
His khakis are tattered
And he ain't bathed in weeks
His bout with the bottle
Shows up on his cheeks
He looks like a scarecrow
A sight to behold
As he works for the shepherd
Bringin' lambs to the fold
He points to the Bible
He holds in his hands
Says I'm proof that the good Lord
Can save any man
Son, it aint what you're driving
Or the clothes that you wear
Material possessions
Won't matter up there
And someday in heaven
When the angels all sing
These rags that I'm wearin'
Will be fit for a king
He's fighting a fever
In spite of the chill
He pulls up his collar
And he speaks of God's will
His body is weakened
But his faith is still strong
For he's filled with conviction
For the mission he's on
He knows soon in heaven
He'll be homeless no more
As his work will soon echo
From that far distant shore
Son, it aint what you're driving
Or the clothes that you wear
Material possessions
Won't matter up there
And someday in heaven
When the angels all sing
These rags that I'm wearin'
Will be fit for a king
And someday in heaven
When the angels all sing
These rags that I'm wearin'
Will be fit for a king
|
|
|
 |
|
 |
|
|
|
|
Will be fit for a king
These rags that I'm wearin'
When the angels all sing
And someday in heaven
Will be fit for a king
These rags that I'm wearin'
When the angels all sing
And someday in heaven
Won't matter up there
Material possessions
Or the clothes that you wear
Son, it aint what you're driving
From that far distant shore
As his work will soon echo
He'll be homeless no more
He knows soon in heaven
For the mission he's on
For he's filled with conviction
But his faith is still strong
His body is weakened
And he speaks of God's will
He pulls up his collar
In spite of the chill
He's fighting a fever
Will be fit for a king
These rags that I'm wearin'
When the angels all sing
And someday in heaven
Won't matter up there
Material possessions
Or the clothes that you wear
Son, it aint what you're driving
Can save any man
Says I'm proof that the good Lord
He holds in his hands
He points to the Bible
Bringin' lambs to the fold
As he works for the shepherd
A sight to behold
He looks like a scarecrow
Shows up on his cheeks
His bout with the bottle
And he ain't bathed in weeks
His khakis are tattered
For the savior on high
And he offers salvation
At the cars passing by
He hurls fire and brimstone
His one claim to fame
His grip on the gospel
On 19th and Main
His pulpit's a corner
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| FFit FFor AA KKing |
| it or ing |
| iFt oFr A iKng |
| cit cor z ling |
| cFit cFor zA lKing |
| Fcit Fcor Az Kling |
| rit ror q oing |
| rFit rFor qA oKing |
|
| Frit Fror Aq Koing |
| git gor s ming |
| gFit gFor sA mKing |
| Fgit Fgor As Kming |
| tit tor w jing |
| tFit tFor wA jKing |
| Ftit Ftor Aw Kjing |
| vit vor x iing |
|
| vFit vFor xA iKing |
| Fvit Fvor Ax Kiing |
| dit dor |
| dFit dFor Kng |
| Fdit Fdor Knig |
| Fiit Foor Kjng |
| Ft Fr |
| Fti Fro Kijng |
|
| Fjt Fkr K9ng |
| Fjit Fkor K9ing |
| Fijt Fokr Ki9ng |
| F9t F9r Klng |
| F9it F9or |
| Fi9t Fo9r Kilng |
| Flt F0r Kong |
| Flit F0or |
|
| Filt Fo0r Kiong |
| Fot Flr Kkng |
| Foit Flor Kking |
| Fiot Folr Kikng |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|