When all the songs have been sung
And all the music has been played.
When all the rhythms have been strummed
And all the guitars put away.
When all the stars are in their places
And the angels in their beds
Moonlight shining on their faces
Love cradling their peaceful heads.
When all the bullets have been fired
And all the cannons laid down low
When all the generals have retired
And there’s no other place to go.
When all the stars are in their places
And the angels in their beds
Moonlight shining on their faces
Love cradling their peaceful heads.
Between the guitar and the gun
Behind the darkness and the light
Before the rising of the sun
When all things tumble into night.
blackmarksonawhitepage 