David Berkeley
Glory
When the rains fall, man they fall hard.Seems they might wash us away.In Georgia, the earth feels so thin.It feels like the trees may fall down.But I hold on to you. I hold on to you.Glory, make your own bed.Let me lie down on my own.And fire, burn down my back.Take these possessions, too.'Cause I hold on to you. I hold on to you.And I'm sorry I'm not all those things.But I'm doing the best that I can.So don't let go of me. Don't let go of me.
From Letras Mania