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“There must be some way out of here,” |
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said the joker to the thief |
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“There’s too much confusion, |
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I can’t get no relief |
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Businessmen, they drink my wine, |
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plowmen dig my earth |
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None of them along the line |
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know what any of it is worth” |
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“No reason to get excited,” |
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the thief, he kindly spoke |
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“There are many here among us |
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who feel that life is but a joke |
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But you and I, we’ve been through that, |
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and this is not our fate |
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So let us not talk falsely now, |
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the hour is getting late” |
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All along the watchtower, |
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princes kept the view |
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While all the women came and went, |
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barefoot servants, too |
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Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl |
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Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl |