Understated Reverence

In the understated reverence
Of the eight-ball now
Maybe it's the weather
Or the roads we're crossing somehow
Listen to bukka white
Playing his twelve-string guitar
In the understated reverence
Where we find out who we really are

In the understated reverence
We're all safe in your room
The fragileness of your presence
That never came too soon
And the white river keeps flowing
Way out with the sheets
In the understated reverence
Is where the two sides can meet

You can blame it all on tomorrow
And let your time slip away
Blame it all on your brothers
But then get out of the way
He'll come down on you like thunder
Make you dig your own grave

The understated reverence
Just another name for judgement day