The Mist In The Mourning

How sorry the man with no home of his own

Limping forever, sorry and stoned

Clotted up blood that hangs on the bone

And a withered dead voice that ever does moan

So sorry he cannot see his friends here today

So sorry he is gone along his way

Go down to the church, maybe you will pray

And send him some love to speed him away

How dark is it now

How lonely the day

And none can know

The that has been paid

Grim is the voice that calls you to die

He knows no one will be there to cry

Alone on his way, gone down to die

With a sad, sad soul, I have to ask why

But my soul is worried and my heart can't rest

I have too many roads and too many rests

I will see you on that cold lonely shore

And that day we will mourn, never no more