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