Lyrics

If you scratch off the California you'll see I'm Georgia underneath
Lake Lanier and youth camp and summer feet
I felt so guilty leaving
But even worse if I’d've stayed
I didn’t know how much that history was gonna weigh

Church on Sunday morning
Every Wednesday night
No one ever questioned
What was and wasn’t right

Ghosts of old traditions
Generations deep
Can I sift through all I’ve thrown away
To find one thing I can keep
The roots are bittersweet

Mama's gonna go to heaven
She knows it in her heart
And one day everybody else’ll see how wrong they are
It started out with good intentions
I guess it felt like love at first
But where is the line you cross we’re praying turns into a curse

Church on Sunday morning
Every Wednesday night
No one ever questioned
What was and wasn’t right

Ghosts of old traditions
Generations deep
Can I sift through all I’ve thrown away
To find one thing I can keep
The roots are bittersweet


I been holding on to grudges
From high up on a hill
Washed myself in water from a sour well
All these stones that I’ve been throwing
Keep coming back around
Turns out fighting fire with fire
Just burns the whole place down

CH
Church on Sunday morning
Every Wednesday night
No one ever questioned
What was and wasn’t right

Ghosts of old traditions
Generations deep
Can I sift through all I’ve thrown away
To find one thing I can keep
The roots are bittersweet