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Iâm practicing for the gig that matters
In the sky, in the sky
Iâm singing for all my friends to gather
When they fly, when they fly
Gonna say hey St. Peter, listen to my song here
I been writing all my life
I know youâve heard every golden-throated angel
But I heard redemption, it knows no bounds
Too many days, I lived a life of leisure
While folks were starved for food and rest
And itâs true, I drank from the cup of the righteous
while the Devilâs song played in my head
But my redeemers they have been many
And I canât help but change my tune
So Iâm practicing for the gig that matters
So I can sing this world of truth.
Every drunk that I played for
Kept me right, kept me right
Every wayward preacher and aimless soldier
Kept me in line, kept me in line
This is a song for all the sinners
Who never knowed they made the difference
And the working Saints abandoned in the trenches,
The Lamb of God lost in the wood
Iâm practicing for the gig that matters
I want to see my saviorâs face
When St. Peter says sing your song child
And Iâll let you through these pearly gates
Gonna say hey Lordy Iâm here to bear some witness
No disrespect but, just in case you missed it
Thereâs some long haul suffering broken folks
that need mending
And they ainât seen your help yet