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