Flung wide The salutations the deep curse And the shutters close A spring house in the making On good earth of momented souls in my soul And fears I don’t know I hear there is a march we should go Lost on this road are there any real Sundays to find Unbound on the rising The pell mell the of miser kings As you saw what I'm seeing Oh you'd thaw from the fires There pace in your game And wake in your straights I ache from the center out Lost on this road are there any real Sundays to find? Lost on this road are there any real souls Don’t hear what I hear Don’t see what I see Don’t leave what I must leave behind Lost on this road are there any real Sundays to find? This stop I am hunger The deep well of a stranger held And this heart of a lonely hunter now I'm lost on this road Are there any real Sundays to find I'm lost on this road Are there any real souls? Are there any real souls to find? Are there any real souls to find?