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Now my road has turned to tracks, |
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Stones to pebbles, see them roll away. |
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My wandering troubles need not break my back, |
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Mmm, sorrow is the price I pay. |
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I sing my sorrows to the morning; I speak them to the night. |
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You best believe I? ll keep singing until I make my wrongs so right. |
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Devil said, a pity for your troubles to take your tired old soul? |
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So you know you got to go. |
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Hurry, to catch the morning. |
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You got to hurry on now, |
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In the night. |
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I would heed my sorrow. |
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And it knows, won? t be long now? |
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Hurry. |
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Now with blind hands, I crawl this lonely place, |
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As my dry tears fall and roll away. |
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I can? t see troubles as they dance behind my back, |
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Ooo, sorrow is my soul to slay. |
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He stole my sorrows from the morning; he ripped them from the night. |
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And you best believe I? ll keep singing to make my wrongs so right. |
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Devil took a pity of my troubles; he holds my tired old soul |
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So I know I got to go? |
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Hurry, to catch the morning. |
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I got to hurry on now, |
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In the night. |
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I would heed my sorrow. |
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Now I know, won? t be long now? |
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Hurry. |
