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'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.