It was made out of mud
And pieces of tin
And boxes nailed together
Cardboard boxes
My castle
My home
And we slept on the floor
My sister and I
With gunny sacks for our pillows
Coughing, hungry, cozy
My home
And every Sunday on our knees
We would thank the Lord
For his bountiful blessings
And our mother poured soup
Into little cracked bowls
As she spoke of something better
Beef steak, maybe, someday
My home
And that lady had eyes
That were empty and cold
At the ripe old age of thirty
Death came
Welcome
To my home
And still that Sunday
On our knees
How we thanked the Lord
For his bountiful blessings
And my sister and I
Swore the day that we left
There'd be no more children like us
In the filth there, in the heat there
In the smell there
And no more Sundays
On our knees
Would we thank the Lord
For his bountiful blessings
And we came to the city
And begged for our food
Then, one April day we heard it
Thunder rumbling
One man speaking
Thousands singing
Someday we'll be free
I promise you, we'll be free
If not tomorrow
Then the day after that
And the candles in our hand
Will illuminate this land
If not tomorrow
Then the day after that
And the world that gives us pain
That fills our lives with fear
On the day after that
Will disappear
And the war we've fought to win
I promise you, we will win
If not tomorrow
Then the day after that
Or the day after that
Someday we'll be free
I promise you, we'll be free
If not tomorrow (If not tomorrow)
Then the day after that (Or the day after that)
And the candles in our hand
Will illuminate this land
If not tomorrow (If not tomorrow)
Then the day after that (Or the day after that)
And the world that gives us pain
That fills our lives with fear
On the day after that
Will disappear (Will disappear)
Will disappear
And the war we've fought to win
I promise you, we will win
If not tomorrow
Then the day after that
Or the day after that
Or the day after that
Or the day after that
Or the day after that
Or the day after that!