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A Handful Of Ground
He’s walking with turn-down head, in front of the road
Rain and wind is ranged in his ragged coat
He carries the sack of starvation and misery on his shoulder
And take a rest under a bridge
The dream close his tired eyes to a prayer
This time he feels good ’cause he get food and drink
Imagine that he’s loved by the people too
Oh my Lord, please don’t wake him up yet!
Who don’t get from the songs, prays for a handful of ground
Who don’t hear our voice, prays for a handful of ground
Sad smiles are burning on the edge of road
They’re pressing the name of God to his hand
He hide it into his wizen fist among dusty tears
Oh my Lord, why is it in this way?
Who don’t get from the songs, prays for a handful of ground
Who don’t hear our voice, prays for a handful of ground
You never had a power to keep the flame of life
Lonely trees came for you to cry
The startled time which rolls out from a frozen body
Follows you from your cradle to the grave
Who don’t get from the songs, prays for a handful of ground
Who don’t hear our voice, prays for a handful of ground