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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Gregory Porter
Vocals
Troy Miller
Performer
Emanuel Harrold
Drums
Jahmal Nichols
Double Bass
Chip Crawford
Piano
Ondrej Pivec
Hammond Organ
Chris Storr
Trumpet
Andrew Ross
Alto Saxophone
Trevor Mires
Trombone
Etienne Charles
Performer
Philly Lopez
Soprano
Vula Malinga
Soprano
Phebe Edwards
Soprano
Teyana Miller
Alto
Priscilla Jones Campbell
Alto
Sharlene Hector
Alto
Ladonna Harley-Peters
Alto
J. Ellington
Tenor
Kevin Mark Trail
Tenor
James Thompson
Tenor
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Gregory Porter
Composer
Troy Miller
Choir Arranger
Etienne Charles
Horn Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Peter Beckmann
Mastering Engineer
Troy Miller
Producer
Kamau Kenyatta
Producer
Nick Rives
Engineer
Ira Grylack
Assistant Recording Engineer
Lyrics
Jack of all trade
Master of everything
Lived a life with a spice
For the party he brings
He could out-pray the Pope
More junk, more dope
He was my missin' link
Pour him another drink
He was always there
To hear the church-bells ringing
Front row, right pew
So that he could be seen
I was with him through all of this
But a few things that he missed
He didn't teach me a dad gone thing
But how to sing
He charmed all the ladies
They would watch his show
He made art from his heart
He could make a tear flow
He could out-play the devil
Out-smart him too
If you would hear him croon his tune
He would blow your mind too
He was always there
To hear the church-bells ringing
Front row, right pew
They might call him to do his thing
He spun around in the pulpit
Flashin' a diamond ring
He didn't teach me a dad gone thing
But how to sing
He charmed all the ladies
They would watch his show
He was smart, he was sharp
But didn't wanna let go
He could out-play the devil
But why did he play me?
I stood right in front of his stage
But still I was hard to see
He was always there
To hear the church-bells ringing
Front row, right pew
So that he could be seen
He would trade his only son
For the life that he could get
So the son went to the father's church
Stepped into the pulpit
Laying his head back, and opened his mouth
The church jumped up like spring
You didn't teach me a dad gone thing
But how to sing
And I won't sing my song (Heavenly Father)
Sing my song (Heavenly Father)
Heavenly Father (Heavenly Father)
Can you hear my plea? (Heavenly Father)
Heavenly Father, now, now, yeah (Heavenly Father, Heavenly Father)
Now, now (Heavenly Father)
Hey now, Heavenly Father (Heavenly Father)
Can you hear my call? (Heavenly Father)
Can you hear my plea?
Writer(s): Gregory Porter
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