There must be some kind of way outta here Said the joker to the thief There's too much confusion I can't get no relief...
There must be some kind of way outta here Said the joker to the thief There's too much confusion I can't get no relief Business men, they drink my wine Plowman dig my earth None were level on the mind Nobody up at his word Hey, hey No reason to get excited The thief he kindly spoke There are many here among us Who feel that life is but a joke But, uh, but you and I, we've been through that And this is not our fate So let us stop talkin' falsely now The hour's getting late, hey All along the watchtower Princes kept the view While all the women came and went Barefoot servants, too Outside in the cold distance A wildcat did growl Two riders were approaching And the wind began to howl
writers: DYLAN, BOB
copyright: EMI Music Publishing
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