The Folk Singer
As i walk these narrow streets where a million passing feet have tried before me
With my guitar in my hand suddenly i realize nobody knows me
Where yesterday the multitude screamed and cried my name out for a song
The day the streets are empty and the crowds have all gone home
I pass a million houses but there is no place where i belong
All i knew to give it was song after song after song
All the truth i try to tell you were as distant to you as the moon
Born 200 years too late and 200 years too soon
I'm a child of this age locked inside the pages of your book
And when i am but dust and clay and other children stop take look
Well they marble at the miracles i did before them
And to the heights i did inspired
Or will they tear out the pages of the book to light a fire
With the rain on my face there is no place where i belong
Did you forget the folk singer so soon?
And did you forget my song?
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