Sing it Like a Psalm, But it Cuts Like a Curse

Tempo: Slow, heavy, marching, Thump-thump-clack of boots and iron chains on floorboards

V4.5-ALL

(Tempo: Slow, heavy, marching. Thump-thump-clack of boots and iron chains on floorboards.)

Sing it Like a Psalm, But it Cuts Like a Curse

(Intro)
(A lone, weeping steel guitar slide—high, thin, and shivering. A heavy, distorted kick drum begins, steady as a heartbeat in a tomb. Clink-clink-shhh of chains against wood.)

[Verse 1]
(Vocals: Smoky, gravelly, low in the throat. Half-spoken, weary.)
I’ve been walkin’ the line where the salt meets the sulfur
Where the river runs black with the sins of the town
I got a pocket full of copper and a soul full of hollow
And a crown made of thorns that is weighin’ me down
Well, the preacher, he’s silent, he’s buried his Bible
He says, “Child, there’s no mercy for what you have done”
So I’ll light my own altar, I’ll burn my own cathedral
And I’ll dance in the ashes beneath the ghost of the sun.

[Chorus]
(Explosion of sound: Heavy, relentless stomp-clap. Gang vocals enter—low, droning, thick, like locusts swarming.)
Oh, carry the coal, let the fire be the witness
We’re born of the dirt and we’re bound by the tether
(Gang vocals: Bound by the tether…)
Sing it like a psalm, but it cuts like a curse
We’re burnin’ the barn just to light up the weather
(Gang vocals: Light up the weather…)
Yeah, heavy on the heart, and heavier on the soul
Strike the match, Sister—let the iron bells toll.

[Verse 2]
(Vocals: Stronger, more melodic, reaching for the rasp.)
I remember the faces, the ones that I buried
Underneath willow trees weepin’ in grey
They’re callin’ my name from the roots of the valley
But my tongue is a serpent, it’s got nothin’ to say
I ain't lookin’ for heaven, I ain't lookin’ for pardon
I’m lookin’ for vengeance that tastes like the rain
If the Lord wants my spirit, He’ll have to come hunt it
Through the mud and the blood and the links of this chain.

[Bridge]
(Rhythm shifts: Stomp-clap-chains triplet, jailhouse work song cadence. Syncopated and fierce.)
Stomp, stomp, clap (chain rattle)
Stomp, stomp, clap (chain rattle)
(Vocals: Fierce, rising to a soulful, Adele-style power)
Break the lock!
(Gang: Break it!)
Burn the lock!
(Gang: Burn it!)
If the gates won't open, then we’re tearin’ them down!
We are the harvest of the sin-sick soil
We are the fire in the dead of the town!

[Guitar Solo]
(Twangy electric guitar bites, fuzzy and distorted. Mournful fiddle weaves through, high and frantic. The steel guitar enters, bending notes sharp and long—a terrifying, metallic scream that fades into a low, rumbling groan.)

[Chorus]
(Full volume, raw and defiant)
Oh, carry the coal, let the fire be the witness
We’re born of the dirt and we’re bound by the tether
(Gang vocals: Bound by the tether…)
Sing it like a psalm, but it cuts like a curse
We’re burnin’ the barn just to light up the weather
(Gang vocals: Light up the weather…)
Yeah, heavy on the heart, and heavier on the soul
Strike the match, Sister—let the iron bells toll!

[Outro]
(Music strips back to just the stomp and the chains. The fiddle lingers on one final, dissonant note.)
(Vocals: Whispered, breathy, dark)
Let it burn.
Let it all go to ash.
(Gang vocals: Amen…)
(Final chain rattle, then silence.)

3197/7500

Sing it Like a Psalm, But it Cuts Like a Curse (Tempo: Slow, heavy, marching. Thump-thump-clack of boots and iron chains on floorboards.) Sing it Like a Psalm, But it Cuts Like a Curse (Intro) (A lone, weeping steel guitar slide—high, thin, and shivering. A heavy, distorted kick drum begins, steady as a heartbeat in a tomb. Clink-clink-shhh of chains against wood.) [Verse 1] (Vocals: Smoky, gravelly, low in the throat. Half-spoken, weary.) I’ve been walkin’ the line where the salt meets the sulfur Where the river runs black with the sins of the town I got a pocket full of copper and a soul full of hollow And a crown made of thorns that is weighin’ me down Well, the preacher, he’s silent, he’s buried his Bible He says, “Child, there’s no mercy for what you have done” So I’ll light my own altar, I’ll burn my own cathedral And I’ll dance in the ashes beneath the ghost of the sun. [Chorus] (Explosion of sound: Heavy, relentless stomp-clap. Gang vocals enter—low, droning, thick, like locusts swarming.) Oh, carry the coal, let the fire be the witness We’re born of the dirt and we’re bound by the tether (Gang vocals: Bound by the tether…) Sing it like a psalm, but it cuts like a curse We’re burnin’ the barn just to light up the weather (Gang vocals: Light up the weather…) Yeah, heavy on the heart, and heavier on the soul Strike the match, Sister—let the iron bells toll. [Verse 2] (Vocals: Stronger, more melodic, reaching for the rasp.) I remember the faces, the ones that I buried Underneath willow trees weepin’ in grey They’re callin’ my name from the roots of the valley But my tongue is a serpent, it’s got nothin’ to say I ain't lookin’ for heaven, I ain't lookin’ for pardon I’m lookin’ for vengeance that tastes like the rain If the Lord wants my spirit, He’ll have to come hunt it Through the mud and the blood and the links of this chain. [Bridge] (Rhythm shifts: Stomp-clap-chains triplet, jailhouse work song cadence. Syncopated and fierce.) Stomp, stomp, clap (chain rattle) Stomp, stomp, clap (chain rattle) (Vocals: Fierce, rising to a soulful, Adele-style power) Break the lock! (Gang: Break it!) Burn the lock! (Gang: Burn it!) If the gates won't open, then we’re tearin’ them down! We are the harvest of the sin-sick soil We are the fire in the dead of the town! [Guitar Solo] (Twangy electric guitar bites, fuzzy and distorted. Mournful fiddle weaves through, high and frantic. The steel guitar enters, bending notes sharp and long—a terrifying, metallic scream that fades into a low, rumbling groan.) [Chorus] (Full volume, raw and defiant) Oh, carry the coal, let the fire be the witness We’re born of the dirt and we’re bound by the tether (Gang vocals: Bound by the tether…) Sing it like a psalm, but it cuts like a curse We’re burnin’ the barn just to light up the weather (Gang vocals: Light up the weather…) Yeah, heavy on the heart, and heavier on the soul Strike the match, Sister—let the iron bells toll! [Outro] (Music strips back to just the stomp and the chains. The fiddle lingers on one final, dissonant note.) (Vocals: Whispered, breathy, dark) Let it burn. Let it all go to ash. (Gang vocals: Amen…) (Final chain rattle, then silence.)

0/500