Pray where you are

In the submarines and tanks
In the S and Ls and banks
In the cancer wards, the prisons and the bars
On the earth and on the moon
In the closet, in your room
In the flop houses, the think tanks and the farms
To the salesman forever trying to sell
To the faithful daughter walking to the well

CHORUS
Oh, pray where you are
Pray where you are
In the fields and in the factories
There's no limits, rules or boundaries
At work or school or driving in your car
Pray where you are

In the strip joints, in the church
On a desperate lost child search
On the airplanes and the backroads and the rails
On the blacktops, on the beach
Down a sewer and up a creek
In the penthouses, the gulags and the jails
To the criminal with no one left to con
To the movie star whose day has come and gone

CHORUS

To the junky with his back against the wall
To the lawman as he breaks another law
In the desert, off the shore
In peacetime and in war
In the pentagon, the court rooms and the malls
In the tents and in the caves
At the truckstops, by the graves
In our hopes and fears and struggles great and small
To the corner bum that no one seems to hear
To the president who prays for four more years

Pray where you are. . .


(Terry Taylor and Lost Dogs)