When The Saints Rise Out Of Their Graves – Richard Thompson

When the trumpet sounds, we’ll all be in line
Saints and sinners, the whole of mankind
There’s going to be a reckoning, what will you weigh?
When the sun comes up on the very last day

We’ll all be craning our necks to see
Adam and Eve from the book of Genesee
Heroes and villains, noble and humble
As the earth underneath our feet will crumble

When the saints, when the saints
When the saints rise out of their graves
When the saints, when the saints
When the saints rise out of their graves
Laughter for some, tears for others
Separating sons, sisters and brothers
When the saints, when the saints
When the saints rise out of their graves

Smiling faces on the poor and needy
Sweating blood will be the rich and greedy
You can lie, you can cheat, you can swindle your way
But there’s nowhere to hide on the very last day

When the saints, when the saints
When the saints rise out of their graves
When the saints, when the saints
When the saints rise out of their graves

It really doesn’t matter what a man chooses
Jesus or Buddha, Muhammad or Moses
It really doesn’t matter ’bout the color of your skin
It’s all about your heart and what you keeping within

When the saints, when the saints
When the saints rise out of their graves
When the saints, when the saints
When the saints rise out of their graves
Laughter for some, tears for others
Separating sons, sisters and brothers
When the saints, when the saints
When the saints rise out of their graves

When the saints, when the saints
When the saints rise out of their graves
When the saints, when the saints
When the saints rise out of their graves