You're the other half of what I am, you're the missing piece
This time tomorrow I'll know you better;
When my memory is not so short.
Well, there's voices in the night trying to be heard;
I'm sitting here listening to every mind polluting word
There was music in the cafes at night;
And revolution in the air.
Every brain is civilized,;
Every nerve is analyzed,;
Everything is criticized when you are in need.
I was in your presence for an hour or so;
Or was it a day? I truly don't know.
People ask about you;
I didn't tell them everything I knew
You'd better do somethin' quick;
She's your lover now.
When He rose from the dead, did they believe?
And, when I was through;
I filled up my shoe;
And brought it to you.
Our conversation was short and sweet;
It nearly swept me off-a my feet.
You lose yourself, you reappear
I've been hit too hard, I've seen too much;
Nothing can heal me now, but your touch
We sat in an empty theater and we kissed,;
I asked ya please to cross me off-a your list.
I'm hungry and I'm irritable;
And I'm tired of this bag of tricks.;
At one time there was nothing wrong with me;
That you could not fix.
My conscience is beginning to bother me today.
He said, Are you lookin' for somethin' easy to catch?;
I said, I got no money. He said, That ain't necessary.
The door has closed forevermore
If indeed there ever was a door
Done so many evil things in the name of love, it's a crying shame;
I never did see no fire that could put out a flame.
They said it was the land of milk and honey,;
now they say it's the land of money.;
Who ever thought they could ever make that stick.
Reality has always had too many heads
Oh it's rush hour now;
On the wheel and the plow;
And the sun is going down;
Upon the sacred cow.
Will I ever learn that there'll be no peace, that the war won't cease;
Until He returns?
On the rising curve,;
Where the ways of nature will test every nerve,;
You won't get anything you don't deserve,;
Where we were born in time.
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',;
But I'll know my song well before I start singin'
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums,;
Should I leave them by your gate,;
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
Well, I got a harmonica job, begun to play,;
Blowin' my lungs out for a dollar a day.
I am hanging in the balance, of the reality of man;
like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand
The night is pitch black, come an' make my;
Pale face fit into place, ah, please!
