I want to know what you been doin', I've been untrue,
But I still feel the same about you.
Sleeping in the back of a cantina, tired of sniffin' glue,*
Eatin' scraps the dog was supposed to chew.
I got a letter from my mother
She said, "Come on home, son. We'll take good care of you."
But I gotta get back to you, my lover
And no one else will do.

Once upon a time the sidewalks filled with a bunch of hip scarecrows,
And some who were there just to catch the show.
I played guitar out on the streets in Berkeley, till I had to go.
Played piano in Hotel Mendocino.
It's like we got shot out of a cannon.
Every day was another response to a call.
People casting stones at the walls of Mammon.
But you know we had a great fall.

I pulled up lame outside of San Francisco, sufferin' from the bends
I couldn't make a living, I couldn't make no sense.
Money talked, and now everyone's listening. I watched my friends
Disappear into the back of a Mercedes Benz.
I'm wondering how I could have neglected
The only path that could take me out from under this gun.
The spirit moves you when you least expect it,
But you can't see how it's done.

*Never having sniffed glue, this should be understood as a metaphor.

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