God's Own Singer

Lyrics for God's Own Singer

Straight backed chair and a table Where he sits when he's able To walk over from bedridden misery To record from his thoughts On a worn out table cloth Where he'd been while his mind breaks sleeplessly Though his body's bent with age You know, he's still out on that stage Entertaining all his friends That pause to greet him at the door Forty nine years out on the road Many nights he'd saved a soul Now he sits and waits to claim his own reward God's own singer of songs is going home Though he's poor, might be the richest one you know All this pain will set him free Wash his soul and cleanse him clean God's own singer of songs is going home God's own singer of songs is going home