I said: It would never work, you said: Let us try
I said: I’m a travelling man who will only make you cry
And when the feeling hit me and I had to move along
You said: You were right, I guess, you must sing your song

And a man is born to do one thing and I was born to sing

God on high, hear my prayer
In my need, you have always been there
He is young, he's afraid
Let him rest, heaven-blessed
Bring him home
Bring him home
Bring him home

He's like the son I might have known
If God had granted me a son
The summers die, one by one