| The night is growing dark
|
| From somewhere deep within
|
| It shelters like an ark
|
| That always takes you in
|
| And the mind goes numb
|
| Until it’s feeling no pain
|
| And the soul cries out
|
| For a handful of rain
|
| Wash your women
|
| In your whiskey
|
| When your future’s
|
| In the past
|
| And you’re staring
|
| Up at heaven
|
| From the bottom
|
| Of a glass
|
| And you need some insulation
|
| From the years you’ve had and lost
|
| And you feel the perspiration
|
| As you’re adding up the cost
|
| And the night rolls on
|
| Like a slow moving train
|
| And the soul cries out
|
| There’s a land beyond the living
|
| There’s a land beyond the dead
|
| If it’s true that God’s forgiving
|
| Of the lives that we had led
|
| In the distance there’s a thunder
|
| And the air is thick and warm
|
| And the patrons watch with wonder
|
| The approaching of the storm
|
| And the night rolls on
|
| Like a slow moving train
|
| And the soul cries out
|
| For a handful of rain
|
| There’s an old man in the corner
|
| And he’s smoking all the time
|
| And the smoke is drifting upward and it’s
|
| Twisting in my
|
| Twisting in my mind
|
| My mind
|
| The whiskey’s getting deeper
|
| And I use it like a moat
|
| There’s a blues man in the distance and he’s
|
| Lost inside his note
|
| His note
|
| His note
|
| The night is growing dark
|
| From somewhere deep within
|
| It shelters like an ark
|
| That always takes you in
|
| And the night rolls on
|
| Like a slow moving train
|
| And the soul cries out
|
| For a handful of rain |