There will come a day and soon,
this cold parade is over
the mule will not be stubborn then,
the judge will not be sober;
the choir will not amplify
the song to put asunder
the day that i know is soon to come,
for now's the time,
oh now's the time,
oh now's the time
And here will be my letter home,
with clothes and my good wishes
for any light that might begin
to revelate all this is;
written out before you now,
dropping threads and stitches;
but here will be my last kind word blues
for now's the time,
oh now's the time,
oh now's the time
Now's the time for rags and tears,
and every face to bury
the mask it cannot live behind,
the burden that it carries
these eyes belong to all of us now,
naked, wide, if weary;
oh, now's the day for all your tears and mine,
for now's the time,
oh now's the time,
oh now's the time

Copyright: RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC
Writer(s): JOE HENRY