| Lyrics: | 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. |
