| With a gun inside your mouth life’s rushing by
|
| In the shade of sin; |
| to live you have to die
|
| Convicting yourself to the cross; |
| it was your loss
|
| The face made of tragic and tears:
|
| Now it’s here
|
| It goes on and on and on
|
| From the cradle to the grave
|
| Well, it rolls like a wheel
|
| The torture goes on and on
|
| In the houses made of stone you try to hide
|
| But the eyes of the beholder will try
|
| To drag you from heaven to hell, I tell
|
| The treasure, the struggle in pain
|
| All in vain
|
| It goes on and on and on
|
| From the cradle to the grave
|
| Well, it rolls like a wheel
|
| On and on and on
|
| On and on and on
|
| It goes on and on and on
|
| On and on and on
|
| It goes on and on and on
|
| Now you’re gone
|
| The torments tongue brought you under the ground
|
| I can see it now so clear; |
| you have to die
|
| Convicting yourself to the cross; |
| it was your loss
|
| The face made of tragic and tears
|
| Now it’s near
|
| It goes on and on and on
|
| From the cradle to the grave
|
| Well, it rolls like a wheel
|
| The torture goes on and on
|
| It goes on and on and on
|
| From the cradle to the grave
|
| In the calm in the storm
|
| On and on and on
|
| On and on
|
| From the cradle to the grave
|
| On and on and on and on |