Whiskey Communion
TitanChord
Eleven a.m. at the Buckhorn Bar
Sunday mornin', the regulars come
Bartender wears a collar she stole in '92 —
And she pours the body and the blood
Father Mike sits two stools down
Quit the diocese in '85
Drinks his coffee with a shot of Jim
And he asks the Lord to come alive
Asks the Lord to come alive
Whiskey communion, neon altar
Eleven a.m. and the regulars don't falter
Some men kneel for a wafer, some men kneel for a glass —
And the Lord don't ask which one, brother
The Lord don't ask which one
The Lord don't ask which one
There's a woman in the corner who lost a son
There's a man on the door who lost a tour
Every Sunday, eleven on the dot —
We confess, and we pour, and we pour, and we pour
Bartender said baby, you been comin' here longer
Than my whole damn marriage, give or take
I said darlin', the church closed up in May —
And my Lord don't take a Sunday break
My Lord don't take a Sunday break
You can keep your stained glass, brother
You can keep your steeple too
Give me a barstool and a juke and a bottle —
And the body and the blood comes through
The body and the blood comes through
Whiskey communion, neon altar
Eleven a.m. and the regulars don't falter
Lay me in the booth, brother, lay me on the bar —
And let the jukebox preach me through
Let the jukebox preach me through
Timing is estimated — lines are spaced evenly across the track.
Whiskey Communion
By TitanChord · Modern Gothic Gospel-rock Doom
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Lyrics
Eleven a.m. at the Buckhorn Bar Sunday mornin', the regulars come Bartender wears a collar she stole in '92 — And she pours the body and the blood
Father Mike sits two stools down Quit the diocese in '85 Drinks his coffee with a shot of Jim And he asks the Lord to come alive Asks the Lord to come alive
Whiskey communion, neon altar Eleven a.m. and the regulars don't falter Some men kneel for a wafer, some men kneel for a glass — And the Lord don't ask which one, brother The Lord don't ask which one The Lord don't ask which one
There's a woman in the corner who lost a son There's a man on the door who lost a tour Every Sunday, eleven on the dot — We confess, and we pour, and we pour, and we pour
Bartender said baby, you been comin' here longer Than my whole damn marriage, give or take I said darlin', the church closed up in May — And my Lord don't take a Sunday break My Lord don't take a Sunday break
You can keep your stained glass, brother You can keep your steeple too Give me a barstool and a juke and a bottle — And the body and the blood comes through The body and the blood comes through
Whiskey communion, neon altar Eleven a.m. and the regulars don't falter Lay me in the booth, brother, lay me on the bar — And let the jukebox preach me through Let the jukebox preach me through
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Dark Country Artists
About this song
Genre: Modern gothic gospel-rock doom, sacred/profane dark country, ba
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