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Oh the sisters of mercy, they are not departed or gone.
They were waiting for me when I thought that I just can't go on.
And they brought me their comfort and later they brought me their song.
Oh I hope you run into them, you who've been travelling so long.
Confusion writhes around our hearts impatiently
It drains the faith that lights the dark and sets us free
From the chains of our war and the pain we once called love
The poison of doubt enslaves our minds and we bleed
We abandon the trust that kept us blind and disappear
Under the crimson wings of hate where the lost are safe
Until they love again
one of us should stand up
one of us should scream
one of us should step out
and say just what he means
one of should say
just what it is we're fighting for
but no one days nothing much
of anything no more
Whoa, black Betty bam-ba-lam
Whoa, black Betty bam-ba-lam
She's from Birmingham bam-ba-lam
Way down in Alabam' bam-ba-lam
Well, she's shakin' that thing bam-ba-lam
Boy, she makes me sing bam-ba-lam
Whoa, black Betty bam-ba-lam
When the wagons leave the city for the forest and further on
Painted wagons of the morning, dusty roads where they have gone
Sometimes traveling through the darkness met the summer coming come
Falling faces by the wayside, looked as if they might have known
Oh the sun was in their eyes
And the desert dries
In the country towns
Where the laughter sounds
"Theme From An Imaginary Western"
Written by Jack Bruce from his Songs For A Tailor lp, and popularized by Mountain on their Mountain climbing lp, from 1970.
I said where I come from
It's cornbread and chicken
Where I come from--lotta front porch sitting
Where I come from, working hard to make a living
And trying hard to get to Heaven, where I come from
She'll be coming round the mountain
When she comes.
She'll be coming round the mountain
When she comes.
She'll be coming round the mountain,
She'll be coming round the mountain,
She'll be coming round the mountain
When she comes.
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