By David Allan Coe
WOULD YOU LAY WITH ME IN A FIELD OF STONE
IF MY NEEDS WERE STRONG, WOULD YOU LAY WITH ME
SHOULD MY LIPS GROW DRY,
WOULD YOU WET THEM, DEAR
IN THE MIDNIGHT HOUR,
IF MY LIPS WERE DRY
WOULD YOU GO AWAY TO ANOTHER LAND
WALK A THOUSAND MILES THROUGH THE BURNING SAND
WIPE THE BLOOD AWAY FROM MY DYING HAND
IF I GIVE MYSELF TO YOU
WOULD YOU LAY WITH ME
IN THE STREAM OF LIFE
WHEN THE MOON IS FULL,
WOULD YOU BATHE WITH ME
WILL YOU STILL LOVE ME,
WHEN I'M DOWN AND OUT
IN MY TIME OF TRIAL,
WOULD YOU STAND BY ME
WOULD YOU GO AWAY TO ANOTHER LAND
WALK A THOUSAND MILES THROUGH THE BURNING SAND
WIPE THE BLOOD AWAY FROM MY DYING HAND
IF I GIVE MYSELF TO YOU
WOULD YOU LAY WITH ME
IN A FIELD OF STONE
IF MY NEEDS WERE STRONG,
WOULD YOU LAY WITH ME
