Always he was still a sinner,
That much, he knew, it was inner.
But after hellfire struck him down,
Mid-stride, rocking music town,
He forsook shaking, balls of fire
To countryside he did retire.
Another time another place,
Led Killer to the penance face.
Filled with guilt and with regret,
Were his yodels, and they met
The twang, the moans, the pedal steel–
Roots redemption held appeal.
Still pentecostal contradiction
Was his muse, if not his diction;
Ivory makes many sounds
Hypocrisy though, knows no bounds
Milwaukee–stated Killies’ heel–
Disguised defying God was real.
