| Work through soil, work the line
|
| Wash the canvas from my name
|
| Tend the brunches free our splinted
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| My soul lays barren through the winter
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| Leave my maker in the thirst
|
| Pray my conscious does its best
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| To run free through golden fields
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| To shed my shackles it burns instead
|
| Keep me working with my head in my hands
|
| Don’t hold your breath now
|
| God you know I got plans
|
| Just keep on running like I know you can
|
| You wouldn’t look back if you weren’t a free man
|
| Casted now and bound to change
|
| Seek redemption through the shame
|
| And my broken and my spent
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| Have I suffered, I will repent
|
| Keep me working with my head in my hands
|
| Don’t hold your breath now
|
| God you know I got plans
|
| Just keep on running like I know you can
|
| You wouldn’t look back if you weren’t a free man
|
| My master I am tired still
|
| I’m a servant to the fields
|
| My punished skin will never mend
|
| Will my hard ship never end
|
| My ma still lying tired still
|
| I’m a servant to the fields
|
| My punished skin will never mend
|
| Will my hard ship never end
|
| Keep me working with my head in my hands
|
| Don’t hold your breath now
|
| God you know I got plans
|
| Just keep on running like I know you can
|
| You wouldn’t look back if you weren’t a free man
|
| Keep me working with my head in my hands
|
| Don’t hold your breath now
|
| God you know I got plans
|
| Just keep on running like I know you can
|
| You wouldn’t look back if you weren’t a free man |