Mark Gothard: Music

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• MP3 play whole song, lo-fi (modem)

I was born in 1923
In the shade of a hollow poplar tree
When I was young I often roamed
But the West I’d always call my home
Never had money never did mind
Gold in the pockets wasn’t what I wanted to find

Always searching for a trace
Of that certain familiar grace
In the moonlight out in the fields
I heard that song yes, my soul it was healed
One of the angels down here on the ground
Trying to rise above the weight of this here old town

Bought a guitar when I was just 13
Played it so much made my fingers bleed
Started writing songs ‘bout the feelings I had
Some of them good and ‘course some of them bad
Later in life songs just came pouring through
Seemed like if I couldn’t write didn’t know what would I do

All alone and frozen in time
My heart reaches out, line by line
All that you’ve sewn and all that you’ve said
It will manifest in the skin you shed
One of the angels down here on the ground
Listening intently to that beckoning sound

Now that I’m older yes I’m nearly done
The race of living now it’s nearly run
I look back at my life and what I’ve become
Seein’ just where I’m at and where I’m comin’ from
The twilight of life shines bright with the gold
That I sought when I was young that which I did behold

Can say that my cup is filled up to the rim
Yes with mind alive, though lights are drawn dim
So many moments when I felt that touch
Can’t express to you, it meant so much
One of the angels down here on the ground
Looks like it’s on up to heaven I’m bound