Early morning, dreary horizon
|
Aching hands are pulling a millstone
|
Wailing from the cart
|
Moaning from a shattered heart
|
|
He's burned down many a bridge
|
And he's scared of walking in the dark
|
It hurts when the rain falls on his skin
|
|
Oh he is worn out from marching
|
And he's forgotten for what he's searching
|
Yet he keeps up the stride
|
God knows that he won't arrive
|
|
-----------------
|
Ghost
|
Blue Foundation |