Lord, my heart's not vain
Nor my eyes unchanged by season
Lord, hear my voice a servant in your choir
I've no choice to sing
Sing, sing, sing for all who wonder
Sing, sing, sing for all you squander
A mother to her child doesn't count the ways
A father to his child knows the score

The work is done the child is gone
The flags, the schools
The books, the broken rules
You carry my name you carry my coat
You carry my looks
You carry the map back home to you
It's a lucky stroke to be so cruel
A lucky stroke to seem so cruel
It's a lucky stroke to be so cruel

Lord, my heart's insane
I don't buy what's strange
But what's stranger is
Lord, my will's estranged
From the grace you gladly offer to us
Sing, sing, sing for all who suffer
Sing, sing, sing for all you squander
A mother to her child doesn't count the ways
A father to his child just knows

The work is done this child sings for you
The rocks, the songs
This child sings for you to get back home
To get back home to get back home
To get back home