| That soap box song stuck in his head. | |
| Burdens lie in graves past by. | |
| He carries his weight. that anthem for the disenchanted rings loud in waves of grain. | |
| Heavy hearted hymns heard in slums fade out on those country roads. | |
| Hope burning in his lungs. | |
| Days pass, weeks pass. | |
| Sleeping under sky. | |
| Days pass, weeks pass. | |
| Days turn into nights. | |
| Sleep sound, the sun's out. | |
| Sleep long, sleep well. | |
| Days pass, weeks pass. | |
| Memories come flooding back, | |
| He prays his mother's God has saved her soul. | |
| That soap box song still in his head. | |
| Miles lost to heat and rain. | |
| He carries his weight. | |
| That message for the misdirected rings true to this day. | |
| Heavy hearted hymns sung in fields. | |
| He stops along that country road to listen as they sing. | |
| "Swing low, swing low chariot for me. Swing low, swing low. Pray my soul to keep." | |
| Rest now, the sun's down. Rest long, rest well. | |
| Swing low, swing low." | |
| Redemption lies in an old farm house. | |
| "Room and board for the strong hands we need. All i can offer is roof over head. Another day, another dollar." |
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