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    (Thea Gilmore)

    Cut me down
    Bury this rosary
    Somewhere out of town
    Somewhere out by the sea
    And take this ring
    Give it to Emily
    Tell her I'm peaceful now
    Tell her I've been released
    And I will be rolling on

    Well, I know that drill
    I know it all too well
    It starts like a lonely voice
    And shifts to a tolling bell
    Like rain on a dusty ground
    Small bones in the driest well
    The spark breathes a fiery tongue
    And the tongues kiss the cheek of hell
    And I will be rolling on
    I will be rolling on
    I've had my part to play
    Now I am going home

    There's not telling which way, boys
    This thing is gonna take hold
    From the fruit on a poplar tree
    To the bruise round a band of gold
    From the blood in a far country
    To the war of just growing old
    We travel the lower road
    And it is lonely and it is cold
    And we will be rolling on
    We will be rolling on
    We've had our part to play
    Now we are going home

    And we will keep rolling on
    We will keep rolling on
    Because for every midnight hour
    There's always a rising sun

    © Thea Gilmore


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