歌手:Bob Dylan
专辑:《John Wesley Harding》

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“There must be some way out of here,”
said the joker to the thief

“There’s too much confusion,
I can’t get no relief

Businessmen, they drink my wine,
plowmen dig my earth

None of them along the line
know what any of it is worth”

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“No reason to get excited,”
the thief, he kindly spoke

“There are many here among us
who feel that life is but a joke

But you and I, we’ve been through that,
and this is not our fate

So let us not talk falsely now,
the hour is getting late”
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All along the watchtower,
princes kept the view

While all the women came and went,
barefoot servants, too

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl