I think I hear the pipers.
I think they play for me
This lonely song a-wailing
From across the vast, cold sea.
I think it is my death dirge
That echoes every tear;
This lonely sad, cold wailing
That only I can hear.
The wind, it knocks me over.
The rain drips on my brow.
I think I hear them coming.
Yes, I'm sure I hear them now.
The Father stands waiting to free me from sin
For the pipers are playing and I'm home again.
No comments:
Post a Comment