For every man who will last   there's nothing he can't get past   no obstacle he cannot erase   for every king there's a crown   and every time I look around   I am the kin of infinite space      for every field there's a mole   with the soil that he stole   and the sightlessness that lets him go free   for every drought there's a rain   and when my earth's in pain   I watch it boil o tearfully      there's a time to sing these things   and a time to have them sung   a time to bring the tune   and a time to have it brung   there's a lap for resting head   there's the only nesting bed   there's the souls to cry among   for the things that don't get sung   and a hand to hold your throat   to stifle that crying choke