| There’s a time when the truth is bad
|
| And that’s so very sad, I know
|
| When I was a kid like a mother’s sigh
|
| I used to hear the freight trains cry
|
| They kept me on the go, you know
|
| Even now I stop to hear
|
| The big trucks a-shifting gear
|
| It’s what I want to know, you know
|
| There’s a time when the past is past
|
| Filled with things that never last, I know
|
| The freight trains' lonesome whistles cry
|
| Becomes a song but there’s the sky
|
| Spring always comes again
|
| That old car, it was Christmas time
|
| Filled with kids and they were all crying
|
| They had no place to go, I know
|
| There’s a time when you face your soul
|
| To find if you are true and whole, you know
|
| I remember your face so clear
|
| Sometimes it seems I hear
|
| The softness of your sigh, your sigh
|
| And I remember another time
|
| Autumn’s here and summer’s dying
|
| You asked me not to go, don’t go
|
| There’s a time when you face the sky
|
| To find if you are here and why, you know
|
| I like to watch the eagle fly
|
| In the early dawn when the dew’s not dry
|
| I hear a rooster crow
|
| Just like a morning star
|
| That you see from afar
|
| Through the clear, clear sky, the sky |