"Pouring Water on a Drowning Man"
Drew Baker/Dani McCormick

You push me when I'm falling
And you kick me when I'm down
I guess I missed my calling
Cause I sit up in a cloud

How much more
How much more could I stand
When you're pouring water
On a drowning man

Put me on the right track
And then you let me down
Stab me in the back
Yes, you do, baby
Everytime I turn around

Criticize my love, won't you try
Just try to understand
You're pouring water
I got to tell you bout it
On a drowning man

You're pouring water
On a drowning man
You treat me like
The fool that I am

You planned it out
Like everything you do
You put salt in my wound
It's sad but it's [bad word] 

You warm me with your kissing
Then you leave me in the cold
How can I know your wishes
Wanna hear you tell me

When I never been told, alright

I cried in mercy, baby
Just try to understand
You're pouring water
I got to tell you bout it
On an old drowning man, yeah

You're pouring water, ha ha
You see I'm a drowning man
Oh, I got tears in my eyes
I'm a drowning man

Don't let me drown, oh, baby
I'm a drowning man

No soul singer's repertoire would [bad word] without a song about the treacherous woman who did him wrong, but "Pouring Water on a Drowning Man" pushes the theme past its usual melodramatic boundaries into a desperation that's just a bit scary. While on the surface this recycles any number of clichés about romantic betrayal (the woman in question both kicked the narrator while he was down and stabs him in the back), the cumulative effect manages to generate something like pathos; by the final [bad word]  this poor guy has been so thoroughly humiliated by the woman he loves that you can't help but wish she would have the decency to lighten up a bit. "Pouring Water on a Drowning Man" was a hit for James Carr, and his impassioned performance milked the song's pleas of mercy for everything they were worth. On this tune, Carr matched Otis Redding's churchy fervor with the [bad word] edginess of Wilson Pickett, but the desperate, wounded undercurrent was all Carr's, and it's what makes this one of the [bad word] timeless performances of soul's troubled genius. 
by Mark Deming