You hear that, son?
That’s the sound of stories untold
The wind blows them east
They never grow old
You hear that, boy?
That’s the sound of the train
It carries the world on its shoulders
Like a man carries his pain

Someday you’ll be grown up like me
And you’ll know what’s good
That good rain makes a good harvest
For the places we’ve stood

You see that, son?
That’s the carpenter’s table
He works with his hands
He was born in a stable
You see that, boy?
That’s the place of the skull
A good, good man, he died there
The poor he makes full

Someday you’ll be grown up like me
And you’ll know what’s good
That good men, they raise good sons
To stand where he stood

But I’m draggin’ my feet
Wounded by the enemy
I’m draggin’ my feet
Wounded by the enemy

Someday you’ll be grown up like me
And you’ll know what’s good
But I don’t know what good is anymore
Don’t stand where I stood