Throwin' Stones (live)

I'm sitting on St. Peter in the pouring rain,						       
Trying to recollect the reason, you gave me my name
Runnin’ through what we’d be doin’ up my brain.
The empty chair beside me reminds me you no longer remain

The band, they keep playin as if there’s nothing wrong.
People laughin and dancin and drinkin, yeah the beat goes on.
Oh how I just wish I could hear your sweet voice singin along.
This ol’ world keeps on turnin’ even though you’re gone.
Ch:   
And I always that I'd see you in New Orleans,
Where the sun shines across the Pontchartrain
But knowing you won't be here in the morning,
Makes me wonder if  I could ever love someone as much again. 

Voodoo, Vieux Carre, Tchoupitoulas couldn’t help me out 	
I’m a hangin’ on a hurricane, unknown whereabouts.						
Ohh I try to get goin, but without you I just don’t know how.
The ghost 0f  Dr. John Creaux couldn’t save me now.

I walked 13 up from Marigny til I hit the coastline. 
Tryin’ to find the truth, the answer, the way, to define the divine.
And though I spent half my days trying to deny it,
Ohh I was closer to you than anything else in my whole life.
Ch:
And I always that I'd see you in New Orleans,
Where the sun shines across the Pontchartrain
But knowing you won't be here in the morning,
Makes me wonder if  I could ever love someone as much again.

St. Peter in the Rain (live 10.23)

Well, Sam C. was a magician on the southwest side,
Sam C.  spent his days and nights blowin’ people’s minds.
Sam C. didn’t see that car a comin’, he didn’t even react.
Stray bullet took Sam C. in Sam C.’s final act.

Aww some things get broken, and they can’t get fixed,
Some days a magician’s just flat outta tricks.
Sometimes that rabbit just won’t come out the hat,
Some days abracadabra just ain’t where it’s at.

Chorus:    
If there’s one thing I know of this earth yessir I know, I know it,
It’s better to be 6 foot above it than 6 foot below it
There’s still breath in your lungs, there’s so much to be done, 
And stray bullets fly fast, in the land of the gun.
Stray bullets fly fast, in the land of the gun.

Young hearts believe in magic over the logic it’s defying.
While young eyes cry, because of a magician is dying.
Sometimes magician survives gettin’ sawed in half,
Sometimes a magician’s mother writes his epitaph.

Aww some things they get broken and they can’t be rebought,
Some thoughts haunt your head and they can’t get unthought.
Sometimes magicians disappear in a puff of smoke
sometimes you’re blowing people’s minds, sometimes your mind gets blown.

If there’s one thing I know of this earth yessir I know, I know it,
It’s better to be 6 foot above it instead of 6 foot below it.
There’s so much to be done, there’s still breath in your lungs,
And stray bullets fly fast, in the land of the gun.
Every magician’s disappearin’ in his final act,
Just like every stray bullet victim ain’t never comin’ back.
Just like every stray bullet victim ain’t never comin’ back.

Brent Bridwell