A Soul's Release

The Farmer wiped his brow and bowed his head
I fear the frost is coming early, he said
The stink of famine's finally left the field
But winter's nipping closely at our heels

The Farmer's wife rolled over in her bed
Her barren belly swollen longing to be fed
The fever gripped her in the cold of night
Her fingers gripped the pillow till her knuckles white

The Farmer kneeled beside their bed to pray dear God, teach me what to say
With my hands, I tilled the mud, by my sweat, by my blood
I was honest, I was fair, but You have lead me to despair
So let your servant die in peace and grant a wicked soul release

They found the Farmer kneeling in the cold
His beard and hair were white from falling ash and snow
So He gives, he mutters, so He takes
The flaming farmhouse falls before the morning breaks



Credits
Writer(s): Samuel Rodewald
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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