On A Corner In Memphis

Saturday on Beale St.

With the drunk and the searching

I hear an old man playing guitar

I can't make out what he's saying

But I can tell you that he's suffered

That he means every word from the bottom

Of what's left of his heart tonight

A few hours later, I slip into church

Singing the songs about Saving Grace

One guy's nodding off and another hates to be here

And we all mouth the words to save face

It's 11:15 on Sunday morning and I wish I was

On a corner in Memphis listening to the old man

Singing out his sorrows and laying down his pride

He's telling me his story or at least his side

With no need to pretend and nowhere to hide

'Cause we are all broken here

And we're are all ashamed

I couldn't fool you if I wanted to

Our stories are too much the same

And what about this Jesus?

They say He drank with the poor and the blind and the lame

Do you think He'd like the songs that we sing?

Or would He feel the same as I do?

What if Sunday School was on Saturday night?

On a corner in Memphis, listening to the old man

Singing out his sorrows and laying down his pride

He's telling me his story or at least his side

With no need to pretend and nowhere to hide

On a corner in Memphis

What if their heart-breaking cries of pain

Are the first hymns of tomorrow's saints?

On a corner in Memphis, we're singing with the old man

Crying for his sorrows and laying down our pride

He's telling us our story or at least his side

With no need to pretend and nowhere to hide

On a corner in Memphis

We're singing out our sorrows

He's telling us his story

With no need to pretend and nowhere to hide

On a corner in Memphis