I'd sing more about moral of this land. But all God's children ain't free. I'd open up every door I can. 'Cause all God's children ain't free. . I met a beaten broken man.
Well, I asked an old truck driver. About life out on the road. If he does a lotta singing. When he's bringing in his load. . If there's a pretty waitress crying for him.
I'm comin' Lord, for my heavenly reward. I'm comin' home to you, can you see me comin' thru. Thru clouds of persecution, and stumblin' on my way. I 'spect I'm only makin', 'bout a half a mile a day..
I've got a certain kind of hurtin' since you've gone. I've got a pain I can't explain and it keeps on hanging on. You were gone on morning and I held on tight.