There is anger, there is rage. Nameless victims of the age. Hear their voices, hear their cries. Face to face and eye to eye. . Where there is promise, there is hope.
I heard a voice callin' out to me. Might've been a vision, might've been a dream. It said some things will come and some will go. We're only here a moment don't you know.
There's no reason. For fighting this way. There's no rhyme. In the words that we say. . Don't you know the sun is gonna rise. The sun is gonna rise again?.
There's a hitchhiker standing on the side. Of the road off of exit 104. And a forgotten billboard for all night diner. That ain't even there no more. .
So many hills that we have climbed. So many trails we left behind. So many songs that I forget. The journey isn't over yet. . Through all the years I've watched you grow.
Every word that you have spoken. And the promises you made. All the laws that you have broken. Some day these debts must be repaid. . Every stone will be turned over.
He makes his way through the heart of the night. With all he owns in a pack. Those childhood ways disappeared in the struggle. And it don't look like they're coming back.
Deep in the heart of a city night. There's a young girl dancing free. Twirling in circle by the front porch light. Out on the street of dreams, out on the street of dreams.
Swam accross that muddy river. The moon was shining down. The tide was swift and the water deep. But I did not drown. . I touched the land of milk and honey.
Tell me just one more time the reason why you must leave. Tell me once more why you're sure you don't need me. Tell me again but don't think you'll covnince me.
I was lookin' back on faded dreams from yesterday. Like a brush from my past. They painted the evenin' sky. . But they couldn't hold on, the current's so strong.
I was holding on to my granddad's hand. He was pointing to the promised land. And that lay beyond the Reservation Road. He said, "Don't make a promises that you won't keep.
With the wings of sorrow, I have taken flight. Cloaked in the darkness like a thief in the night. I have watched the farmer planting in his field. And known that what he sows, is there for me to steal.
I praise you for the rivers the mountains and the streams. I praise you for the eagle, the visions and the dreams. I praise all your creations the mountains and the streams.
Garbage fires, worn out tires. Dull jackknives, broken lives. Starts and stops at old pawn shops. Boys first fish, drunkards wish. . Thoughts of war behind a motel door.
A orphan child is always looking for a home. A restless spirit with a burning desire to roam. Nobody can hold her too long, she's afraid she just might stay.