What happened to the real you, you've been captured but by whom?
They like to take all this money from sin, build big universities to study in;
Sing Amazing Grace all the way to the Swiss banks
Go 'way from my window,;
Leave at your own chosen speed.
At dawn my lover comes to me;
And tells me of her dreams;
With no attempts to shovel the glimpse;
Into the ditch of what each one means
I ain't sayin' you treated me unkind;
You could have done better but I don't mind;
You just kinda wasted my precious time
I got a poison headache,;
But I feel all right
What kind of sign they need when it all come from within
The drinks are ready and the dogs are going to war
Well, I got a harmonica job, begun to play,;
Blowin' my lungs out for a dollar a day.
Pistol shots ring out in the barroom night
I know God is my shield and he won't lead me astray
He said, Are you lookin' for somethin' easy to catch?;
I said, I got no money. He said, That ain't necessary.
My head tells me it's time to make a change;
But my heart is telling me I love ya but you're strange.
You were trying to break into another world;
A world I never knew.;
I always kind of wondered;
If you ever made it through.
They'll stone ya when you're at the breakfast table.
They tell me revenge is sweet and from where they stand, I'm sure it is.
A saxophone someplace far off played
She knows there's no success like failure;
And that failure's no success at all.
In the home of the brave
Jefferson turnin’ over in his grave
Am I no longer a part of your plans or your dreams?
My conscience is beginning to bother me today.
Will I ever learn that there'll be no peace, that the war won't cease;
Until He returns?
They got him on conspiracy, they were never sure who with.
My love for her is taking such a long time to die
This wheel shall explode!
Have I surrendered to the will of God;
Or am I still acting like the boss?
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late.
Well, I'm livin' in a foreign country but I'm bound to cross the line,;
Beauty walks a razor's edge, someday I'll make it mine.
'Cause he doesn't tell you jokes or fairy tales, say he's got no style.
