The night is growing dark   From somewhere deep within   It shelters like an ark   And always takes you in      And the mind grows numb 'til it's feeling no pain   And the soul cries out   For a handful of rain      Wash your women in your whiskey when your futures in the past   And you're staring up at heaven from the bottom of a glass   And you need some insulation from the years you've had and lost   And you feel the persperation as you're adding up the cost      And the night rolls on like a slow moving train   And the soul cries out...      There's a land beyond the living   There's a land beyond the dead   If it's true that God's forgiving of the lives that we have led   In the distance there's a thunder and the air is thick and warm   And the patrons watch with wonder the approaching of the storm      And night rolls on like a slow moving train   And the soul cries out for a handful of rain      Alright      There's an old man in the corner and he's smoking all the time   And the smoke is drifting upward and it's twisted in my, twisted in my mind   The whiskey's getting deeper and I use it like a moat   There's a bluesman in the distance and he's lost inside his note   His note   His note      The night is growing dark   From somwhere deep within   It shelters like an ark   And always takes you in      And the night rolls on like a slow moving train   And the soul cries out   For a handful of rain