You hear that, son? Thats the sound of stories untold The wind blows them east They never grow old You hear that, boy? Thats the sound of the train It carries the world on its shoulders Like a man carries his pain Someday youll be grown up like me And youll know whats good That good rain makes a good harvest For the places weve stood You see that, son? Thats the carpenters table He works with his hands He was born in a stable You see that, boy? Thats the place of the skull A good, good man, he died there The poor he makes full Someday youll be grown up like me And youll know whats good That good men, they raise good sons To stand where he stood But Im draggin my feet Wounded by the enemy Im draggin my feet Wounded by the enemy Someday youll be grown up like me And youll know whats good But I dont know what good is anymore Dont stand where I stood
good, youll, grown, stood, draggin