| Cut me down
|
| Bury this rosary
|
| Somewhere out of town
|
| Somewhere out by the sea
|
| And take this ring
|
| Give it to Emily
|
| And tell her I’m peaceful now
|
| Tell her I’ve been released
|
| I will be rolling on, I will be rolling on. |
| .
|
| Well I know that dream
|
| I know it all too well
|
| Starts like a lonely voice
|
| And shifts to a tolling bell
|
| Like rain on a dusty ground
|
| Small bones in the driest well
|
| The spark breathes a fiery tongue
|
| And the tongues kiss the cheek of Hell
|
| I will be rolling on, I will be rolling on
|
| I’ve had my part to play, now I am going home. |
| ..
|
| There’s no telling which way boys
|
| This thing is gonna take hold
|
| From the fruit on a poplar tree
|
| To the bruise round a band of gold
|
| From the blood in a far country
|
| To the war of just growing old
|
| We travel a long road
|
| And it’s lonely and it is cold
|
| And we will be rolling on, We will be rolling on
|
| We had our part to play now we are going home
|
| We will keep rolling on
|
| We will keep rolling on
|
| 'Cause for every midnight hour
|
| There’s always a rising sun. |
| .. |