The cold has got me old
I was told.
Bound to my bed
Numb and dumb i lay.
But not for this way
I was mould.
Could a soul tell me
when this will end?
Lord! Help me, again to be whole.
And hold me to be bold.
The load has got me bend
I was told.
Bound to my world
Wreck and meek i wander.
But not for this way
I was made.
Could a soul tell me
when this will wane?
Lord! Help me, again to be whole.
And mend me to be lauded.
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