A Gravel Road Called Glory

An old man once told me a story

About a gravel road called glory

In an esoteric but grand oratory

So I listened to the man so hoary

He said it was a hard road to travel

Your bare feet get cut on the gravel

Yet every step is on sacred ground

But long’s the way without a sound

Why would anyone want to go?

Why would anyone even show?

This is what I wanted to know

As I looked at the falling snow

With a twinkle in his eyes he said:

‘It’s the ending where you begin again, son

It is the path where you’ve ever just begun

And, yeah, it’s certainly a life rife with pain

But each step you take is a universal gain’

So I found that road called glory

And I have just begun my story

But I’ve walked for many miles

And have had my share of trials

And so sometimes I wonder why

Why should I even bother to try

And I stoop down low and sigh

And I lay down ‘n pray and I cry

But then I remember what he said:

‘It’s the ending where you begin again, son

It is the path where you’ve ever just begun

And, yeah, it’s certainly a life rife with pain

But each step you take is a universal gain’

And it’s been a hard road to travel

My bare feet are cut by the gravel

Yet every step is on sacred ground

Along this way that’s glory bound

Because . . .

An old man once told me a story

About a gravel road called glory

About a gravel road called glory

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