(Al Kooper) 

Father of my morning, 

Once my child to the night 

I see that you have minds to cop 

And I can only watch the sickened sorrow 



Little do you know 

of the progressions that you teach 

the people that you reach are tired 

of livin' in a world of elastic towers 

dance with them and sing a song of changes 

and talk with them of life and all its dangers 

surround yourself with now familiar strangers 

who kiss and who hug and eventually mug you of your time 



And the clock on the wall is a bore 

as you wander past the door 

and find him lying on the floor 

as he begs you for some more, you frozen smile 



You cannot ever picture me 

you know me by my thoughts 

A file for your travelogue 

oblivious to the night, the fog around you 

The germs they are rediculous 

they bother you at night 

the blood that rushes to your brain 

the ticket on the plane you're never catching 

the price you pay exclusive of your taxes 

to chop you up inside with tiny axes 

the girl looks up to you from floors she waxes 

and speaks to your belt with tears among her eyes 



and the clock on the wall is a bore 

as you wander past the door 

and find him lying on the floor 

as he begs you for some more, you frozen smile 



The metaphysic wrinkles in the face of what you face 

Are hidden by the fake-up man 

who lives inside the sterno can beside you 

Now climb ye to the mountains 

as the sun is almost gone 

escaping from your other selves 

your brothers hide among the shelves inside you 

the games that people play can only bore you 

but only those that know you don't ignore you 

how many times have I come there to restore you 

And caught you lying on the couch with father time 



and the clock on the wall is a bore 

as you wander past the door 

and find him lying on the floor 

as he begs you for some more, you frozen smile