On Hobo's Wings
Author Thom Gardiner
I'm standing in line on mission row.
It's no place to be, but I've got nowhere to go.
My hands are to the heavens and I say, please O' Lord,
I'm three days of hungry and they are closing the doors.
Well the firelight is burning and my bottle it's full,
And it's all that holds me till I fall once more.
In my cardboard mansion, I'll dream of a place
Where He holds me in His arms and wipes the tears from my face.
And the meek shall inherit and the hungry shall be fed,
And where is the place I'd like to go to instead?
I'm down on my knees. Let the angels sing.
Take me home on hobo's wings.
Well the freight train, its ready and I don't have to hide,
For I paid the cost with the ride of my life.
And I'm riding the rail for the very last time.
He's sending me home and into the light.
And the meek shall inherit and the hungry shall be fed,
And where is the place I'd like to go to instead?
I'm down on my knees. Let the angels sing.
Take me home on hobo's wings.
Take me home on hobo's wings.