God Plays a Gibson Songtext
von Megan Moroney

He′s got the whole world in His hands, that much I understand
Thanks to a Sunday mornin', white church, front-row seat
I try not to complicate Him, keep it simple when I′m prayin'
And trust He's got some kind of plan for me

Every night I bow my head, amen
Just like I′m talking to a friend
And I can picture Him

I bet God drives a Silverado
I could see His house sittin′ on some land
And this year, it's pretty clear He′s a Georgia Bulldog fan
I spend so much of my time wonderin' what He′s really like
I like to think He spends His off days up there fishin'
And I bet God plays a Gibson

He turned water into wine
Seems like my kind of guy
I bet Hе′s up there six-string strummin'
With Loretta Lynn tonight


Every night I bow my head, amen
Like I'm catchin′ up with one of my old friends
And I picture Him

I bet God drives a Silverado
I could see His house sittin′ on some land
And this year, it's pretty clear He′s a Georgia Bulldog fan
I spend so much of my time wonderin' what He′s really like
I like to think He spends His off days up there fishin'
And I bet God plays a Gibson

How cool would it be
If this guitar that′s savin' me
Is the same one that He's playin′
I might be wrong, all I′m sayin'

Is I bet God drives a Silverado
I could see His house sittin′ on some land
And this year, it's pretty clear He′s a Georgia Bulldog fan
I spend so much of my time wonderin' what He′s really like
I like to think He spends His off days up there fishin'
And I bet God plays a Gibson
I bet God plays a Gibson