I see what you mean. Maybe he should see a doctor. I'll see you later. I can see plenty of nice gardens and fields down below us, at the edge of this city.
People carry roses, Make promises by the hours, My love she laughs like the flowers, Valentines can't buy her. In the dime stores and bus stations, People talk of situations, Draw conclusions on the wall.
Some speak of the future, My love she speaks softly, She knows there's no success like failure And that failure's no success at all.
The cloak and dagger dangles, Madams light the candles. In ceremonies of the horsemen, Even the pawn must hold a grudge. Statues made of match sticks, Crumble into one another, My love winks, she does not bother, She knows too much to argue or to judge.
The bridge at midnight trembles, The country doctor rambles, Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring. The wind howls like a hammer, The night blows cold and rainy, My love she's like some raven At my window with a broken wing I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
No, I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more. Well, I wake in the morning, Fold my hands and pray for rain. I got a head full of ideas That are drivin' me insane. It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor. I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more. No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more.
Well, he hands you a nickel, He hands you a dime, He asks you with a grin If you're havin' a good time, Then he fines you every time you slam the door. I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more. No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more.
Well, he puts his cigar Out in your face just for kicks. His bedroom window It is made out of bricks. The National Guard stands around his door.
Ah, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more. I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more. No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more. Well, she talks to all the servants About man and God and law. Everybody says She's the brains behind pa.
She's sixty-eight, but she says she's twenty-four. They sing while you slave and I just get bored. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to. Tambourine Man, play a song for me, In the jingle jangle morning I'll come followin' you. Though I know that evenin's empire has returned into sand, Vanished from my hand, Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping.
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet, I have no one to meet And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming. Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship, My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip, My toes too numb to step, wait only for my boot heels To be wanderin'.
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way, I promise to go under it. Though you might hear laughin', spinnin', swingin' madly across the sun, It's not aimed at anyone, it's just escapin' on the run And but for the sky there are no fences facin'.
And if you hear vague traces of skippin' reels of rhyme To your tambourine in time, it's just a ragged clown behind, I wouldn't pay it any mind, it's just a shadow you're Seein' that he's chasing.
Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind, Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves, The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach, Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow. Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free, Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands, With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves, Let me forget about today until tomorrow.
Well, I go to pet your monkey I get a face full of claws I ask who's in the fireplace And you tell me Santa Claus The milkman comes in He's wearing a derby hat Then you ask why I don't live here Honey, how come you have to ask me that? Well, I asked for something to eat I'm hungry as a hog So I get brown rice, seaweed And a dirty hot dog I've got a hole Then you ask why I don't live here Honey, I gotta think you're really weird.
Your grandpa's cane It turns into a sword Your grandma prays to pictures That are pasted on a board Everything inside my pockets Then you ask why I don't live here Honey, I can't believe that you're for real. Well, there's fist fights in the kitchen They're enough to make me cry The mailman comes in Even he's gotta take a side Even the butler He's got something to prove Then you ask why I don't live here Honey, how come you don't move?
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