Gravel In Your Halo

[Verse 1]
Boot prints on your Bible
Lipstick on my flask
You laugh like trouble’s tidal
Rip my buttoned past
You crawl up on that barstool
Skirt hitched halfway high
Say
“Preacher
What’s your sermon?”
I say
“Lay back
Don’t ask why”
[Chorus]
You got gravel in your halo
Whiskey on your wings
Moaning my confession
’Til the whole damn tavern sings
You ride me like a backroad
Dust in every breath we take
Saint in Sunday pictures
But tonight you’re just my sin to break
[Verse 2]
You bite like busted bottle
Sweeter than a cherry lie
Cross swinging on your collar
Beating rhythm on your thigh
You write your name in sweat marks
On that cracked motel glass
Say
“Save me from my daylight”
I say
“Turn around
Raise that…”
[Chorus]
You got gravel in your halo
Whiskey on your wings
Moaning my confession
’Til the whole damn tavern sings
You ride me like a backroad
Dust in every breath we take
Saint in Sunday pictures
But tonight you’re just my sin to break
[Bridge]
Bedspring choir keeps clanging (oh)
Headboard tapping time
Every “God” you’re screaming
Drags me further down the line
If there’s fire on the other side
Let the devil fan the flame
’Cause with your nails sunk in my back
Hell just learned your name
[Chorus]
You got gravel in your halo
Whiskey on your wings
Moaning my confession
While the barlight starts to sting
You ride me like a backroad
Dust in every breath we take
Pray in dirty whispers
’Til the sun comes up on all we wrecked and made

rock, Swampy dark country rock with male vocals, baritone grit. Crunchy slide guitar over a swung, mid-tempo beat; bass drags slightly behind the kick for a sleazy pocket. Verses stay low and intimate, using close-mic growls and breaths; chorus opens with gang shouts and distorted harmonies. Touches of barroom piano and reverb-soaked tremolo guitar in the bridge to heighten the sinful, late-night tension., country