A Body on the Step American Murder Song
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "A Body on the Step" by American Murder Song. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Someone left it there broken with a sack for a head
A body on the step and lies all about
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
With bruises on its ankles and a cross for a hand
A body on the step and lies all about
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Was a father, was a father, who done rung the bell
Was a father, was a father, who done rung the bell
With scratches on his cheek and beer on his breath
A body on the step and lies all about
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Someone left it there broken with a sack for a head
A body on the step and lies all about
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Was a body, was a body, on the chapel step
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
With bruises on its ankles and a cross for a hand
A body on the step and lies all about
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
Was a pastor, was a pastor, who done found it there
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Put on your Sundays, we're gonna dig a hole
Was a father, was a father, who done rung the bell
Was a father, was a father, who done rung the bell
With scratches on his cheek and beer on his breath
A body on the step and lies all about
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