August air warms your skin, but winter's in your bones
Thunderheads are rolling in on a Thursday afternoon
A fire engine siren fills 42nd Street
Tell me what's a preacher boy preach to times like these

Halfway 'round this mean old world, a mother sits and wails
Her baby girl wrapped in a shroud, her oldest boy in jail
Her husband disappeared one night just walking down the street
Tell me what's a preacher boy's prayer to times like these

Some are born to endless night, others born to dawn
The poor man lays his body down for the rich to tread upon
The blood runs 'bout as thick as oil, and neither brings us peace
Tell me what's a preacher boy's hymn to times like these?

All the love we ever have lives or dies with us
All the songs we ever sing are gifts we hold in trust
That one might reach the heavens on a summer breeze
So sing a preacher boy's blues in times like these