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Baptist walking to me with the Maker
My body my body is bent and broken by long and dangerous sleep
I can't work the fields of Abraham and turn my head
alive and hanging by a thread

I'm not dead yet
I'm not dead yet, no
I'm bent but not broken
And I'm not dead yet, no
Yeah

Maybe there's a poem
And one more heel's been killed
Blackberry John left me 
His old recipe in his will
I'm bent but not broken, 
All I need is some time
And a bottle
Saw Jean Baptiste's walking to me with the Maker

My body is bent and broken 
By long and dangerous sleep
I can't work the fields of Abraham
he's walking to me with the Maker
My body, my body is bent and broken by long and dangerous sleep
I can't work the fields of Abraham and turn my head
to me with the maker

My body is bent and broken
By long and dangerous sleep
I can work the fields of Abraham
And turn my head away
I'm not a stranger
In
Only faith can bring

Never perfect, but perfectly forgiven
Finding courage to get up again

(Chorus)

Bent, but not broken
Tempted, but not shaken
Kept
Baptiste's walking to me with the Maker

My body is bent and broken
By long and dangerous sleep
I can't work the fields of Abraham
And turn my head away
Dear John,
How you doin’
I’ve been thinking about you
I’m not sure how to say it,
But I’ve been praying daily
For some kind of a breakthrough

I’ve
Baptiste's walking to me with the Maker

My body is bent and broken by long and dangerous sleep
I can't work the fields of Abraham and turn my head away
anymore

It's been wasted by the foolishness
Tomorrow
Go away again
Go away again I will not regret
To find a guardian to watch me grow
But
we dream of next to paint this town red?
The rules we're always bent, but never broken
Sneak outside your house and we'll start smoking

Butterflies
a way of life

Young and angry, with every right to be
Bent but not broken, hanging on by a thread
Looked past by most, looked down on by all.
We
careful not to preach
I can't pretend that I can teach
And yet I lived your future out
By pounding stages like a clown
And on the dance floor broken
But I grew and I bent
Don't you know? don't it show?
I'm the punk with the stutter.
My my my my my mmm my my my.

Generation

We tried to speak
dreams not burning steel
It's not in bombs where lies the glory
But in what's shattered on the field

The potter's wheel takes love and caring
Skill
living aborted, none left but unborn
Contrived devastation, see all is ruined
Bodies, now corpses, bent, broken and strewn

Reduced to ash
Reduced
By the times she reached her teens,
She'd turned John Miller green,with jealousy
Just like you knew she would.

And then the flowers started,and she
you astray

I attended service at a little church
In the country not long ago
A prayer was led by an old country preacher
Who then raised his hands
astray

I attended service at a little church in the country not long ago
A prayer was led by an old country preacher
Who then raised his hands as everyone
station
Listen hard but I'm losing patience
Another aim, absurdest brainwash
Another bent pair of scissor [?]

Sick baby move at a heartbeat
When I'm
bruised and broken
She slips her hand into my empty hands
Without hope, without love, you've got nothing but pain
Just makes a man not give a damn
not perfect, but we do the best we can.
These are good times, pulling weeds and making plans,
Getting dirty good-time blisters on our hands.
These are
by like days

Small town shadows, clean out of sight
Nothing to fear but the coming of that morning light
Ducking and dodging and diving for that
To live forever in Heaven with you, well, I'd sure hate to be in this crowd 

You know, Lord, I'm not perfect, some even call me no count 
But I'll tell