I'm getting fitted for a millstone It would have been better So if Jesus finds you begging unbelief I never failed to cry for you I guess that fails to matter As they saw me stealing justice like a theif Don't blame the deacon's gun Don't blame a preacher, prophet, or a priest If I told you where to look But failed to tell you what to find If I led you down the road That had a twisted center line Or if I fed your dark sensibility Don't even blame your pain Don't blame a burden only you can see Don't blame the deacon's gun Who died perfectly desperate Who loves you desperately Waiting Put The Blame On Me