For every man who will last there's nothing he can't get past no obstacle he cannot erase for every king there's a crown and every time I look around I am the kin of infinite space for every field there's a mole with the soil that he stole and the sightlessness that lets him go free for every drought there's a rain and when my earth's in pain I watch it boil o tearfully there's a time to sing these things and a time to have them sung a time to bring the tune and a time to have it brung there's a lap for resting head there's the only nesting bed there's the souls to cry among for the things that don't get sung and a hand to hold your throat to stifle that crying choke