The cycle of life is here 

To see in all of its fine simplicity

But the way we live it seems to be, 

Something very weird to me

And I cry out



For pettiness like lady's chatter 

Seems to complicate the matter

I grit my teeth as my senses chatter 

For nothing gets me much madder

As I leap out



For big or little, great or small, 

It really doesn't matter at all

The way we shuffle our feet and hem and haw, 

'Cause everybody's afraid they'll fall

Or else be left out



But what's right for me or strange to you 

Shouldn't make a damn on what you do

'Cause whether or not you make it through, 

I thought that you already knew

That I'll keep you going



And the World War III and the World Series

Will make the same size headlines in the news



From all I've seen of politics, 

It's just a greasy big money stick

That's geared to run on tongues 

So slick to make you think this is all there is

Boy you're lucky (You're stuck with Humphrey)



How they con the little middle man 

Into thinkin' he has got a hand

To play in the future of the Promised Land, 

he owes himself to the destiny of man

Gets ridiculous



A cheap gangster hires someone

To do his dirty work with a tommy gun

While the President just points at anyone 

And says "I, your country needs some killing done

Go do it now boy"



The war itself is bad enough, 

It can break you down no matter how tough

But the tragedy of all the hoopla stuff, 

It makes you think you can't do enough

For the shiny symbols



And the other countries feel the same as we

And regret that I have but one country to give for my life



The preacher stands in his holy shroud sayin' 

"God forgives you if you do it now"

But if you come back when the chips are down, 

You'll find they've all gone underground

To pray for you



A homosexual, disturbed priest feels that he can preach to me

The right way to go and raise a family 

And I'm forced to look at him and say "you mean

You're guessin"



The population is getting higher, 

The poverty poor, the pregnant tired

Are waiting on the Pope to be inspired 

For some new contraceptive attire

Saying "It's cool now"



It's a ghost behind a one-way mirror 

Listening tip-toed at the door to hear

If someone outside won't speak the year 

Then they'll slip a note out how they feel

About pierced ear-lobes



But the rules made now 

For the changing cows

Are a little late 

And will be out of date by tomorrow



Her mother placed on virginity 

Saying it was the holy place to be

For the things boys had were evilry 

When it came time for matrimony

She froze and died there



Her sister at fourteen very well known thought all the kicks came lying there prone

But a fundamental fact not spoken at home left her feeling like a chewed on bone

And why she wondered



One chick who dug moving about, very liberal minded and often spoke out

How she was cool and understood no doubt with the blankets up and the lights turned out

And you're condescending



A couple together for five or six years, 

A marriage license they'd never been near

But social pressure and loss of job fear 

Got them married and divorced in half a year

They couldn't cut it



It's all talked about 

But still it's lived around

And what is right for me 

Could be perversity in any state law book



I'm told a minstrel at one time w

As allowed to sing and make his rhymes

To comment on the news of the times 

And say directly what's in people's minds

And he made tips for it



But today try playing on some street curb, 

Singin' the news in everyday words

The people pass by, the laughin' is heard 

Or else they hit you where it hurts

They keep their ears closed



One man said "Boy, I dig your stuff, 

I want you to come play in my club

I'll put your name in lights up above,

But just remember I got a club to run

So don't be too strong"



It ain't your writers who sell out, 

It's the damn censors who turn about

My life learned adjectives and vowels 

And say that my mouth is much too foul

To clearly speak to you



But try to hit a nail and if the hammer fails

Then the words you use to describe 

That bruise is basic language



I hoboed around and sang the songs 

That everybody knew and hummed along

To amuse myself I wrote some songs, talkin' 

About things that could be right or wrong

And I'm a little different



A record company you know well wanted to know if my song would sell

I said, "Yes, I like it very well, 

If you don't sir, you can go to help"

Somebody else change



So I kept playin' and bummin' around, singin' 

To the ones who dug my sound

Some guys ask "Won't you play my town", 

I ask fair bread they put me down

Their Caddie's mortgaged



Tried one deal, like "it's you and me",

This guy said he could be of some use to me

But when I found he's puttin' screws to me,

I tipped my hat and made it back to the street

Singin' new folk songs



If there's time enough, 

The hill ain't too rough

What I wrote today, 

I might someday play, 

And make tips for it