The Stone

The old man found the stone one summer evening With not so much a thought but more a feeling The strength his hands had held was after leaving While a lost joy trembled through his bones A sailor regards the sea like a yearning preacher Tries so hard to disregard her features Knows that one day soon he'll try to leave her For the memories he thought he'd left behind Oh lord, our race is almost won Like the falling leaves, like the setting sun A farmer works the land that gives him reason Tills the soil for yet another season Steadies his hand and listens to his breathing As the dancing light beckons to his soul An outlaw cleans his feet as the night gets dim Theres a law man on his trail out to get him Wonders if theres still time for contentment Or if he crossed that line many years ago Oh lord, oh lord our battle is almost done Like the wild storm against the cold hard stone The stone stands proud just where the men had left it A simpler time, when their strength was tested Offered no spite and no redemption As a cool wind breaks the silence of before Oh lord, our race is almost won Like the falling leaves, like the setting sun Oh lord , oh lord our battle is almost done Like the wild storm against the cold hard stone