Face Down In The Mud

The Lyrics of Terry Hubbard

Face Down In The Mud

Don’t talk to me ‘bout Jesus, I don’t know no Roman name.

I know the brother, Fathers’ Son of Man,

truth is, He aint the same.

Don’t want no preditory heroes, the proud protectors of the state.

They’re a mean blue machine, a fraternal brotherhood of hate.

And all of them who make their wages with blood,

leave destruction in their wake,

and dead children face down in the mud.

Got no concern for the rich man, for him it’s already too late.

‘Cause that criminal is too heavy and wide to make it through the gate.

And all of them who make their wages with blood,

leave destruction in their wake,

and dead children face down in the mud.

Don’t need interpreters of freedom, buyers and sellers of our fate.

The elected keepers of the status quo,

and all the hell they can create.

And all of them who make their wages with blood,

leave destruction in their wake,

and dead children face down in the mud.

And all of you who don’t believe it’s true are fools in your ignorance.

Don’t see no sacred congregation,

just a lot of money upon their plate.

Caesars law is the sermons tale, and Y’shuas love can wait.

And all of them who make their wages with blood,

leave destruction in their wake,

and dead children face down in the mud.

And all of you who don’t believe it’s true are fools in your ignorance.