LETRA
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His pulpit's a cornerOn 19th and MainHis grip on the gospelHis one claim to fameHe hurls fire and brrimstoneAt the cars passing byAnd he offers salvationFor the savior on highHis khakis are tatteredAnd he aint bathed in weeksHis bout with the bottleShows up on his cheeksHe looks like a scarecrowA sight to beholdAs he works for the shepherdBringin lambs to the foldHe points to the BibleHe holds in his handsSays Im proof that the good LordCan save any man(chorus)Son, it aint what youre drivingOr the clothes that you wearMaterial possessionsWont matter up thereAnd someday in heavenWhen the angels all singThese rags that Im wearinWill be fit for a kingHes fighting a feverIn spite of the chillHe pulls up his collarAnd he speaks of Gods willHis body is weakendBut his faith is sitll strongFor hes filled with convictionFor the mission he's onHe knows soon in heavenHell be homeless no moreAs his work will soon echoFrom that far distant shore(chours)And someday in heavenWhen the angels all singThese rags that I'm wearin'Will be fit for a kingAnd someday in heavenWhen the angels all singThese rags that I'm wearin'
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