Todd Agnew
On A Corner In Memphis

Saturday on Beale St. with the drunk and the searching
I hear an old man playing guitar
I can't make out what he's saying
But I can tell you that he's suffered
And that he means every word from the bottom
Of what's left of his heart tonight

A few hours later, I slip into church
Singing songs about saving grace
One guy's nodding off and another hates to be here
And we all mouth the words to save face
It's 11:15 on Sunday morning
And I wish I was

On a corner in Memphis listening to the old man
Singing out his sorrows and laying down his pride
He's telling me his story or at least his side
With no need to pretend and nowhere to hide

'Cause we are all broken here
We are all ashamed
I couldn't fool you if I wanted to
Our stories are too much the same

And what about this Jesus?
They say He drank with the poor and the blind and the lame
Do you think He'd like the songs that we sing?
Or would He feel the same as I do?
What if Sunday School was on Saturday night?

What if their heart-breaking cries of pain
Are the first hymns of tomorrow's saints?

On a corner in Memphis, we're singing with the old man
Crying for his sorrows and laying down our pride
He's telling us our story, or at least his side
With no need to pretend and nowhere to hide

On a corner in Memphis
We're singing out our sorrows
He's telling us his story
With no need to pretend and nowhere to hide
On a corner in Memphis


Mirror lyrics:

On a corner in Memphis
With no need to pretend and nowhere to hide
He's telling us his story
We're singing out our sorrows
On a corner in Memphis

With no need to pretend and nowhere to hide
He's telling us our story, or at least his side
Crying for his sorrows and laying down our pride
On a corner in Memphis, we're singing with the old man

Are the first hymns of tomorrow's saints?
What if their heart-breaking cries of pain

What if Sunday School was on Saturday night?
Or would He feel the same as I do?
Do you think He'd like the songs that we sing?
They say He drank with the poor and the blind and the lame
And what about this Jesus?

Our stories are too much the same
I couldn't fool you if I wanted to
We are all ashamed
'Cause we are all broken here

With no need to pretend and nowhere to hide
He's telling me his story or at least his side
Singing out his sorrows and laying down his pride
On a corner in Memphis listening to the old man

And I wish I was
It's 11:15 on Sunday morning
And we all mouth the words to save face
One guy's nodding off and another hates to be here
Singing songs about saving grace
A few hours later, I slip into church

Of what's left of his heart tonight
And that he means every word from the bottom
But I can tell you that he's suffered
I can't make out what he's saying
I hear an old man playing guitar
Saturday on Beale St. with the drunk and the searching


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