Burt Bacharach
Oh Lord, What Are You Doing to Me
You never place gold dust in my hair
You made me a child of a no good man
My only love precious gift from above
Now he is leaving, day by day
Hear me crying, ah, slowly dying
Oh Lord, what are you doing to me
I never cared about the troubles that life brings
In fact I'm grateful, thankful for every little thing
So if you hear me and love me, help me make him stay
Let me hold him, let me love him
Oh Lord, what are you doing to me
So, if you hear me, really, really hear me
Won't you help me make him stay
Let me hold him, let me love him
Oh Lord, Lord, Lord
Oh Lord, Lord, Lord
Oh Lord, Lord, Lord
Oh Lord, What are you doing to me