It’s time that faith forgot My hand-stained heart will stop And high on a hill, I’ll soon be still Embraced by a wooden box
I loan myself to gods I face their chopping blocks And boarding my train for a faster pace I’ll leave my worried lot
And the hair on the face of my father Marks his way to the grave as it loses its color But I’ve got a minute if you’ve got a cigarette We can sit as the river rolls by, oh Lord We can sit as the river rolls by
My bones, my face, my jaw Will join the earth and rock My family will say, “We miss the place The boy held in our hearts”
And the hair on the face of my father Marks his way to the grave as it loses its color But I’ve got a minute if you’ve got a cigarette We can sit as the river rolls by, oh Lord We can sit as the river rolls by