My shoes are worn, I'm tired, hungry, my clothes are torn, there is no bread.

And as the evening tarries on my yearning starts and all I ask, a pillow for my head.

And as I live my misery, I think of days of long ago and things that used to be.

My loving mom, my caring dad, the fireplace and longomgly a pillow for my head.

Somehow my world got upside down, my folks are gone, I fret and frown.

No job, no home, left all alone. I walk the lonely road instead and pray, a pillow for my head.

In my euphoric fantasy I dream of things that use to be. A christmas turkey, pumpkin pie. But that was then and here am I.

I look up to the sky and pray that I may find a place to stay and hopelessly I find instead, no pillow for my head.

December winter bitter cold. My only jacket thin and old. The stretch of road so long, I realize I'm not that strong.

Cold hands, cold feet, I have to find a place to sleep. So dark, so scared, so sad... and in a gasping breath he said... a pillow for my head.

New suit, new shoes, now hunger not a pain, you see I'm dead. And through sternity I'll have a pillow for my head.