Flung wide
The salutations
And the shutters close
A spring house in the making
On good earth of man'd souls in my soul
And fears I don’t know
I hear there is a march we should go on
Lost on this road are there any real Sundays to find
Unbound on the rising
The pell mell of miser kings
As you saw what I'm seeing
Oh you'd thaw from the fires
There theirs pace in the gait
And wake in your straights
I ache from the center out
Lost on this road are there any real Sundays to find?
Lost on this road are there any real souls
Don’t hear what I hear
Don’t see what I see
Don’t leave what I must leave behind
Lost on this road are there any real to find?
This stop I am hunger
The deep well of a stranger held
And this heart of a lonely hunter now
I'm lost on this road
Are there any real Sundays to find
I'm lost on this road
Are there any real souls...to find?
Are there any real souls to find?
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