Yea Tho We Walk Songtext
von Meg Hutchinson

Cold morning in the Midwest, winter earth in a wedding dress
Sun creeping over those blue angels of death
So much corn and loss and God, hold the Good Book tight
For fear the fields will swallow you at night
Landing low over the prisons, Omaha at Eppley field
Inmates down in the courtyard, so close that I can feel
So much rage and hope and grief, and this dream of getting free
Fueled by the sound of airplanes as they leave
Oh my friend, is that your hand in mine?
This valley grows darker each time Oh my friend the soul seems made from such a thread
No matter how it tears it always tries to mend
Seems death is my new neighbor, he watches me in my garden
His silhouette in the window so terrible and handsome
If I turn away, or if I watch him carefully
Will I not fall in love today?
Oh my friend is that your hand in mine...
Do unto others, love thy brother
Yea tho we walk tho we walk