Had no life, I was feeling like some kind of unfinished project
I had a friend John, he said let me turn you on to the saint of Inanimate Objects
Go find, go find your saint
Pill by pill a miracle occurred
The whole world got better
How I prayed until I said the words I knew would upset her
She said off your knees and don't tarry I ain't gonna be what I ain't
Go find, go find your saint
Go find, go find your saint
I packed my bags
I never did look back
But I'm glad that I met her
Go find, go find your saint
Go find, go find your saint
Go find, go find your saint
Go find, go find your saint
The union was gone but I sang my songs at the Hall of the Felled Tree
Under the charm of the Saint's folded arms well I hope she can help me
Writer(s): Charles Thompson
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