This is a song, that I wrote when I was young, 

And I call it, the broken hearted blues, 

The air on that night, was tempered like a knife, 

And the people wore the face masks of a clown, 

Don he was long, mis-shapen and forlorn, 

And his woman ran away without a smile. 



Days of the earth, are unbroken changeless turf, 

But the faces of the men are something else. 

In the wind, as a boy, was a spacious sexual toy, 

But baby, now he's a toothless baggy man, 

When the hills of the sun, make you feel that you are young, 



Get good now, and face your face into the wind. 

This is a song, that I wrote when I was young, 

And I called it the broken hearted blues