Tella Me Lord

My brother, my brother, so selfish such pride
You went to the station in the middle of the night
Scaring the maidens
Scare them to death
My brother, my brother, I can see it in your eyes
That you were at the station in the middle of the night
And I wonder what shall I do
Shall I tell what's the truth

What in the world should a poor boy fullfill
What would be doing God's will

Tella me Lord what a tool shall I be
A can in the heat or a washing machine
A crown on the head or a knife in the bread
Oh, what shall I be

My sister, my sister, so helpless so shy
He kicked you in the belly, one day you must die
And you take your little bag
And then you go back
My sister, my sister, so helpless so dumb
I could sing I could write
I could say what I want
You will follow your way
Till it's to late

What in the world should a poor boy fullfill
What would be doing God's will

Tella me Lord what a tool shall I be
A can in the heat or a washing machine
A crown on the head or a knife in the bread
Oh, what shall I be

My mother, my mother, too heartless to sigh
You went to the station got something to fry
What you have in you pan, mother
Is it sister or brother
My mother, my mother, now what shall I do
Shall I slay you with the pan
Or have a dinner with you
It's not easy to decide
It's so hard to realize

What in the world should a poor boy fullfill
What would be doing God's will

Tella me Lord what a tool shall I be
A can in the heat or a washing machine
A crown on the head or a knife in the bread
Oh, what shall I be