Richard Garvey - The Harvest
Like the sun, the sun riseI'm heading, heading west
Like the wind the cold north wind
I may never find my rest
But my home is waiting
My home is calling
My home is ancient
Westward mountains
Like the work the workers day
The fruits of my labour are never my wage
Like the pain the workers pain
I may never go away
But my home is waiting
My home is calling
My home is ancient
Fields of wheat
For the harvest
The harvest is plenty
The harvest is plenty
But the workers are nowhere in sight
So like the war, the war we're waging
I am bloody, I'm a sacrifice
Like the hatred, the hatred that's winning
I don't know how to live my life
My home is waiting
My home is calling
My home is sacred
Like a tree
Standing so tall
Written by:
Richard Garvey
Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
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