God’s Own Singer Songtext
von The Flying Burrito Brothers

Straight backed chair and a table
Where he sits when he′s able
To walk over from bedridden misery
To record from his thoughts
On a worn out table cloth
Where he'd been while his mind breaks sleeplessly


Though his body′s bent with age
You know, he's still out on that stage
Entertaining all his friends
That pause to greet him at the door
Forty nine years out on the road
Many nights he'd saved a soul
Now he sits and waits to claim his own reward

God′s own singer of songs is going home
Though he′s poor, might be the richest one you know
All this pain will set him free
Wash his soul and cleanse him clean
God's own singer of songs is going home
God′s own singer of songs is going home