You stand on your platform and present your views You hand out your opinion like it's the daily news While you're checkin' your look in the mirror From
of drunk reverie saw him escorted out of a mets game on network t.v. kept his head in the clouds with any cheap high he could cull in his cancered impala
My name is Jackson Jameson, a coal miner by trade From a part of Pennsylvania even Jesus couldn't save With towns named after Indian chiefs and Union
He'd eat at KFC Wore salad clothes and smelled like turpentine He talked alot about his art With a spitting image of Ernest Borgnine They found him dead
Well he died at 39 Some kind of pills and homemade wine He left his english bride And a love he couldn't deny behind Folks have come to say He nearly
Pity my brother For how he's suffered me Through nameless towns And cold prairie For restless women At the end of the line Who tendered checks for A promise
Well, I take off my shoes When I walk in her door And try my best to levitate 'Cross her living room floor 'Cause you can't leave tracks When you're on
A lot of folks do well enough leavin' well enough alone But that was never true for me and you Livin' like the characters in "Like A Rolling Stone"
Heaven on earth, for worse or for better Some say paradise is nice but you can't make it last forever Heaven on earth, now I just can't see How I can
(Alexander) Hush now baby, can't you see This cross I bear, it ain't for me I do my job, it's all I have To give you things I never had I had my chance
No money man is gonna carry us No Corporate hand is gonna bury us If we had convictions we'd be dangerous Don't want their creed to guide our consequence
Once was a man who didn't do too well He spent more than a little time down in his little hell He had time to decide Even if it was worth the ride He
There are nights when I'm in my bed Fear, like a freight train, runnin' through my head Watch a man in the county seat Bring a gavel down and he looks
Sunday morning the kids are playing in the street Lookin' for pennies in the cracks of the concrete And I'm looking down at them while I'm sittin' on
I climbed up the mountain, I sailed across the sea But it don't matter anymore to me I sent my money to the preacher man, I prayed for the lottery
Last night I dreamt of flying Over hillsides in the snow And I dove down through the clouds To the valley there below Where the fields turned into parking
badlees/like_a_rembrandt From the album "Diamonds in the Coal" written by: Alexander & Naydock Message: The aim of art is to represent not the outward
This town ain't much to look at, there ain't that much to do With the local Joe's at the stop and go and the class of '42 We go down to the laundromat