Old women dien
young baby cryn
is there any rest for the weary tonite
yes
brought by the moonlight
my head is poundn
my tears are moundn
shoutn to heaven
as i hold back the lightn strike
wheres the rest for the weary tonite
preacher may say
shes headn the other way
if thats the case
then make a place
for my withered soul
theres no denyn
so stop your testifin
the old lady is dien
309's comin on line
i can hear the whistle whine
we see the mothers worry
as the daughters hurry
line my nest
grow your roots
as time will pass
love is all that last
as i shout to heaven
why me
why me
the crazy answer
came so clear
why not
why not
so go and let it be
the end
