I pray thee, oh God of the misty sky
Just simple things in the average eye.
That You give me the power, as long as I can,
To keep drumming through life with foot and with hand. I pray thee, oh God, just a humble space
At the back of the stage behind guitar and bass.
I care not as long as I'm playing a beat
And the music's in time with my hands and my feet. I pray thee, oh God, that my throne be not jewel
But a simple black, leather, padded stool.
For upon that I sit more proud than a king
My sticks suit me better then some crown and a ring. And I pray thee, oh God, that I always stay wild
That I never grow weak, that I never grow mild.
That playing shall never a burden become
That my life is an oath of the cymbal and drum. Let my sticks be my sword and my drums be my shield.Let the bright stage before me be the battlefield.
And, oh God, let me triumph as long as I stand
And let music strengthen my foot and my hand Whether it be on stage, or just in a shed
Oh God, let me drum on until I am dead.