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  • Still Wilson

I’ve heard it said

We’re just walking each other home

From cradle to grave

Walking each other home

Rough seas may have blown you off course

You may have been thrown from your horse

Wandering the deep, dark and gone

But, let me be your torch until dawn

From cradle to grave

We are just walking each other home

Blessings to those

The rare and one-of-a-kind

Blessings to those

The blind leading the blind

If you were the dirtiest rag in the room

I would be your dustpan and broom

If I were nearly beyond repair

Would you straighten my collar and comb my hair?

From cradle to grave

We are just walking each other home

Rough seas may have blown you off course

You may have been thrown from your horse

Wandering the deep, dark and gone

But, let me be your torch until dawn

From cradle to grave

We are just walking each other home

  • Still Wilson

This world can make you bitter

If you let it, but, don’t you let it

It doesn’t have to

Pain is going to test you

And struggle, it will test you

Fear and doubt will, too

No, not one thin dime can buy more time

Or a birdsong, or a sunrise

So before you go trading your soul for a handful of gold

You might consider this advice

There’s a current waiting to pull you under

Try to stay open to the wonder

Mighty money can fool you

But you can’t take it with you

Even if you chase it every day

Sorrow is not your mother

Trouble is not your father

And closing your heart ain’t the way

No, not one thin dime can buy more time

Or a birdsong, or a sunrise

So before you go trading your soul for a handful of gold

You might consider this advice

There’s a current waiting to pull you under

Try to stay open to the wonder

  • Still Wilson

If you need to find me, I’ll be at my grinding stone

It’s where I make a little something for my own

Can’t say I really mind that each day’s a bit the same

I just want to leave a good mark on my name

Sure, I’ve laid all my cards out on the table

And I’m neck deep but ready and able

We’re all in it, yes, you’re in it, too

And if I’m honest, I really must confess

I find the whole affair to be a lovely mess


Every single day I've got to muscle up behind the plow

I’ve got mouths I need to feed you know; some way, some how

I’m no man’s judge, I’m no man’s jury

I harbor no blame, I harbor no fury

But it’s plain to see there’s too many kings

And too many thrones with hearts turning to stone

You see, we’re all in it, yes, you’re in it, too

And if I’m honest, I really should confess

I find the whole affair to be a lovely mess

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© CUTS Music Group | Still Wilson