| Walking down death row
|
| I sang for three men destined for the chair
|
| Walking down death row
|
| I sang of lives and loves in other years
|
| Walking down death row
|
| I sang of hopes that used to be
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| Through the bars
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| Into each separate cell
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| I sang for one and two and three
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| «If you’d only only stuck together
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| You’d not be here
|
| If you could’ve loved each other’s lives
|
| You’d not be sitting here
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| And if only this you could believe
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| You still might, you might still be reprieved»
|
| Walking down death row
|
| I turned the corner and found to my surprise
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| There were women there as well
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| With babies in their arms before my eyes
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| Walking down death row
|
| I tried once more to sing of hopes that used to be
|
| But the thought of that contraption down the hall
|
| Waiting for whole families
|
| One dozen, two, or three
|
| «If you’d only stuck together
|
| You’d not be here
|
| If you could’ve loved another’s child as well as yours
|
| You’d not be sitting here
|
| And if only this you could believe
|
| You still might, you might still be reprieved»
|
| Walking down death row
|
| I concentrated, singing to the young
|
| I sang of hopes that flickered still
|
| I tried to mouth their many separate tongues
|
| Walking down death row
|
| I sang of life and love that still might be
|
| Singing, singing down death row
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| To each separate human cell
|
| One billion, two, or three
|
| «If we’d only stick together
|
| We’d not be here
|
| If we could learn to love each other’s lives
|
| We’d not be sitting here
|
| And if only this you would believe
|
| We still might, we might still be reprieved» |