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Britt Kusserow
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Jericho
When the thunder rolled in, low,
you were dreaming, soft and slow.
This old ache is one I know.
One more mile to Jericho.
See I love with all I am.
Never learned to hide my hand.
So I stumble more than stand.
One more mile to Jericho -
just one mile to Jericho.
And when I get there
they will know my name
for the road is long
but my steps are plain.
This old way is weary
so I close my eyes
and my heart will heal
much to your surprise.
These two feet have walked before,
two lives past, or maybe more,
home again from foreign shores.
One more mile to Jericho.
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Maybe movement holds the key.
If I never stop, I'll never see
one more face to love then leave, oh
one more mile to Jericho.
Just one mile to Jericho.
And when I get there
they will know my name
for the road is long
but my steps are plain.
This old way is weary
so I close my eyes
and my heart will heal
much to your surprise.
And when I get back
I will tell to you
how the walls came down
when the trumpets blew.
This old way is weary
so just close your eyes
and your heart will heal
much to your surprise.
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