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His name is Andrew
He works at the canning factory
He doesn′t have a friend
He chooses to wait alone for his life to end
When Andrew was just a little boy
He learned all the words to all the hymns of joy
And he sang them on Sunday
And he sang them on Monday
And through April and through May
And he caught them say
God is love, God is love
And he believed them

This child was Andrew
He lived in a world of no sense
On him the lion grinned
He sang in the arms of God as he strung along
When Andrew was tall and twenty-one
He wandered far from God and wondered what he'd done
For he still sang on Sunday
Though he muddled through Monday
With a silence in his head
Till in jest it said
God redeems, God redeems
And he believed it

This man was Andrew
On hearing a voice he thought was stilled
Returned to the arms of grace
He stumbled from the arms of night into a lighted place
When Andrew returned into the light
He lifted his voice and sang away the night
And the preacher from Sunday
Heard him singing on Monday
And he stopped him with a word
From the dark he heard
God is dead, God is dead
And he believed it

My name is Andrew
I work at the canning factory
I do not have a friend
I choose to wait alone for this life to end

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