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Itâs time that faith forgot
My hand-stained heart will stop
And high on a hill, Iâll soon be still
Embraced by a wooden box
I loan myself to gods
I face their chopping blocks
And boarding my train for a faster pace
Iâll leave my worried lot
And the hair on the face of my father
Marks his way to the grave as it loses its color
But Iâve got a minute if youâve got a cigarette
We can sit as the river rolls by, oh Lord
We can sit as the river rolls by
My bones, my face, my jaw
Will join the earth and rock
My family will say, âWe miss the place
The boy held in our heartsâ
And the hair on the face of my father
Marks his way to the grave as it loses its color
But Iâve got a minute if youâve got a cigarette
We can sit as the river rolls by, oh Lord
We can sit as the river rolls by