Dry Bones
Billy Otto
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You sat me down in the valley
My eyes beheld a barren waste, it does not live
Wind, oh, quicken this
Wind, instilling birth again today
I see a great battalion as they stand upon their feet
The graves have opened up, oh, breathe
Sing, can these bones sing?
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Son of man, can these bones live?
Son of man, can they sing?
I see a great battalion as they stand upon their feet
The graves have opened up, oh, breathe