Somewhere in a boxcar in the midst of a flood
Surrounded by men, all shoveling mud
A girl is crying out in her woman's pain
Labor increases without living gain
Harvest is coming, grapes on the vine
Hair, it is flowing, the coat dipped in wine
The meek they are walking, the slow and the fast
Dry bones arising on that day of wrath
Westward they go, walking there to and fro
Leave behind all that they know
Westward they cry, and westward they die
Going out on the word of a lie
Winepress is flowing, spilled on the ground
Virgin is soiled, no child is found
Surrounded by suffering, the worst and the best
Gave life to the starving from her stillborn breast
Westward they go, walking there to and fro
Leave behind all that they know
Westward they cry, and westward they die
Going out on the word of a lie
Winepress is flowing, spilled on the ground
Virgin is soiled, no child is found
Surrounded by suffering, the worst and the best
Gave life to the starving from her stillborn breast