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