There is no rest for the wicked

But what does that say for me?

I’m half way in between hell and back

And nothing’s coming to me for free.

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I could walk one thousand miles for the good of man,

or I can turn and walk away,

I’ve got one life left in my pocket,

And I wanted that one for me

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There is no rest for the wicked,

and a simple woman I may be

I want to fill flowers in my basket

and run my soul wild and free.

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Walking across the desert land,

dreaming about who and what I am,

What has anyone done for me?

No love without favors from anyone,

and it’s the hell that kept me here.

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So, there is no rest for the wicked,

as far as I can see,

One life left in my pocket,

and I long to be free.

Just step on by and let me be,

I’m only dreaming as far as I can see.

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A wicked soul, they say I am, sinner I may be

Let me rest and forget about me

I have one life left to do my best for the man of Galilee.

Perhaps my life was meant for he.

–JOAN WILEY