Bob Dylan | Jimi Hendrix

“There must be some kind of way out of here,” /
Said the joker to the thief, / “There’s too much confusion, /
I can’t get no relief. / Businessman they drink my wine, /
Plowman dig my earth / None will level on the line, nobody
offered his word, hey” / “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” / All along the watchtower /
Princes kept the view / While all the women came and went /
Barefoot servants, too / Outside in the cold distance /
A wildcat did growl / Two riders were approaching /
And the wind began to howl.