(bob dylan)



In the time of my confessionin the hour of my deepest need

When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed

There's a dyin' voice within me reaching out somewhere

Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.



Don't have the inclination to look back on any mistake

Like cainI now behold this chain of events that I must break.

In the fury of the moment I can see the master's hand

In every leaf that trembles andin every grain of sand.



Ohthe flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear

Like criminalsthey have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer.

The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way

To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.



I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame

And every time I pass that way I always hear my name.

Then onward in my journey I come to understand

That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.



I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night

In the violence of a summer's dreamin the chill of a wintry light

In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space

In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face.



I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea

Sometimes I turnthere's someone thereother times it's only me.

I am hanging in the balance of a perfect finished plan

Like every sparrow fallinglike every grain of sand