| Collecting coal in the pit
|
| While my father watches by
|
| Ain’t no god that sees me fit
|
| I hide my fortune in the rye
|
| Watch the Winter come and go
|
| See the trees reach out to Spring
|
| Let the sun dry up the streams
|
| See what harvesting will bring
|
| And I lay down in the shadow of the mountain
|
| Blackened by time and rain
|
| And I raise my palms to the fire
|
| Hope my hands could work again
|
| A holy man builds a well
|
| Lifting water from the sand
|
| A traveling man begs him to sell
|
| A portion of his land
|
| He says «This is holy water
|
| And all I want for it in return
|
| Is the contents of your pocket
|
| And a Bible I can burn»
|
| And I lay down in the shadow of the mountain
|
| Blackened by time and rain
|
| And I raise my palms to the fire
|
| Hope my hands could work again
|
| And I lay down in the shadow of the mountain
|
| Blackened by time and rain
|
| And I raise my palms to the fire
|
| Hope my hands could work again |