Kill Your Mother In Church On Sunday

Death

she was wearing her Sundays best

but I must clearly confess;

knew it was but a test but now I rest

a hired man with a gun

shoot her down now she's gone

the papers read all red

with thoughts inside her head

running here & their

　

my momma was a commie

she saved all her money

she was a big phony

full of bologna

now she is gone but her memory lingers on

she was sitting on the right side of the pew

dazzling red dress

pearls in her arrangement;

　

didn't want to do it but it was too late we set the date

the bullet would seal her fate

but not too late she would contemplate;

it was too late