Heaven sent the promised land,
Looks alright from where I stand,
'Cause I'm the man on the outside looking in.
Waiting on the first step,
Show where the key is kept,
Point me down the right line because it's time.
To let me in from the cold,
Turn my lead into gold,
'Cause there's chill wind blowing in my soul,
And I think I'm growing old.
Flash the readies... wot's... uh, deal?
Got to make it to the next meal,
Try to keep up with the turning of the wheel.
Mile after mile, stone after stone,
You turn to speak, but you're alone.
Million miles from home, you're on your own.
So let me in from the cold,
Turn my lead into gold,
'Cause there's chill wind blowing in my soul,
And I think I'm growing old.
Fire bright by candlelight
And her by my side;
And if she prefers, we will never stir again.
Someone sent the promised land,
And I grabbed it with both hands,
Now I'm the man on the inside looking out.
Hear me shout, "Come on in!
What's the news? Where ya been?"
'Cause there's no wind left in my soul,
And I've grown old.
