The night is growing dark
From somewhere deep within
It shelters like an ark
And always takes you in
And the mind grows numb 'til it's feeling no pain
And the soul cries out
For a handful of rain
Wash your women in your whiskey when your futures in the past
And you're staring up at heaven from the bottom of a glass
And you need some insulation from the years you've had and lost
And you feel the persperation as you're adding up the cost
And the night rolls on like a slow moving train
And the soul cries out...
There's a land beyond the living
There's a land beyond the dead
If it's true that God's forgiving of the lives that we have led
In the distance there's a thunder and the air is thick and warm
And the patrons watch with wonder the approaching of the storm
And night rolls on like a slow moving train
And the soul cries out for a handful of rain
Alright
There's an old man in the corner and he's smoking all the time
And the smoke is drifting upward and it's twisted in my, twisted in my mind
The whiskey's getting deeper and I use it like a moat
There's a bluesman in the distance and he's lost inside his note
His note
His note
The night is growing dark
From somwhere deep within
It shelters like an ark
And always takes you in
And the night rolls on like a slow moving train
And the soul cries out
For a handful of rain
