RD RiGHtEr!

Iron Apple, pulsing low, boots on broken county roads,

Red dirt in my rearview mirror, sky about to overload.

Money monkeys in the city, buying souls on Sunday night,

But out here the stars are watching, and that Sabbath still burns bright.

Steel strings growl like thunder, bass drum beating like a heart,

My granddad’s Bible on the dash, diesel smoke and trailer parks.

Thirteen steps up their big house, pyramid eye over the door,

But this old truck and this old Book say they ain’t God no more.

So let that iron Apple crack,

Let that high‑rise kingdom fall.

I’ve got ten words in my blood,

I don’t need their nine at all.

When that low bass shakes the ground,

And the crowd sings loud with me,

Every sheep that’s lost in Babylon

Finds a backroad to run free.

I’ve seen hospitals at midnight, Daddy fading in the light,

Sold my speakers, sold my dream, just to make them bills alright.

But the Lord He kept me writing, little lambs and battles won,

Teaching how to leave old Babylon, how to walk out in the sun.

So turn that bass up, hit that groove, let the kick drum split the night,

We’ll tear down Crowley’s mountain with a red‑dirt Sabbath fight.

If you’re tired of being their goat, come and stand out here with me,

Where the iron eye can’t see you, and the Lamb still sets you free.

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