I was thrown on the cobblestones, tossed at her feet. My fool's mouth was filled with the dust from the street. An out of work court jester with nowhere to go.
It was my first night in that rooming house.. In the last room down the hall. I heard a hoarse voice and an old guitar. Coming through the paper thin walls..
I came into town with a knapsack on my shoulder. And a pocket full of stories that I just had to tell. You know I've knocked around a bit. And I've had my share of small town glories.
Stop singing these sad songs. Just tell me 'bout the good times. I have heard that cold hard truth so many time before. Stop singing these sad songs. Just tell me 'bout the good times, baby.
I can see myself it's a golden sunrise. Young boy open up your eyes. It's supposed to be your day.. Now off you go horizon bound. And you won't stop until you've found.
I have made a little music in some corners of the land. I have fused some crystal images from common grains of sand. If I haven't reached the heavens, I've surely learned to fly.
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It's a song to myself. It's a song to myself. You don't have to listen babe. It's just a song for myself. . But since I fell in love with you. It brought some thoughts to mind.
It was a very cold September,. Colder than I'd ever care to make it.. I had a kind of empty feeling,. But no place to go where I could take it.. . So I took a walk beside the railroad tracks,.
My name is Jenny and I am four fingers old. Mostly I just try to do the things that I am told. But when they say that I'm too young a girl to ride a bike.
Somebody said... Where's the music goin'. Somebody said... It's gone. Somebody said... With this bad wind a blowin'. Will the music keep a rolling on.
It is an early Monday morning.. The sun is becoming bright on the land.. No one is watching as he comes a walking.. Two bulky suitcases hang from his hands..
The very day I purchased it. I christened my guitar. As my monophonic symphony. Six string orchestra. In my room I'd practice late. They'd leave me alone.
I was packed up in my napsack my guitar case slung up over my back about to. hit that dream road once again saw the vision in my mirror about how the.
Have you ever been up. Have you ever been down. Have you ever been lost. Have you ever been found. Have you ever been right. Have you ever been wrong.
I was thrown on the cobblestones, tossed at her feet. My fool's mouth was filled with the dust from the street. An out of work court jester with nowhere to go.
He was crazy of course. From the first she must have known it. But still she went on with him. And she never once had shown it. And she took him off the street.
She has no fear of failure. She's not bent with broken dreams. For the future's just beginning. When you're always seventeen. . It was nineteen sixty-one.
Saturday morning and it's growing light.. I look out my window and remember the night.. The story is starting or the story ends. And I feel like I need you again..
So here she's actin' happy inside her handsome home. And me, I'm flyin' in my taxi, takin' tips and gettin' stoned.. . I got into town a little early..