| Lyrics: | by Bob Dylan
I hate myself for lovin' you and the weakness that it showed
You were
just a painted face on a trip down Suicide Road.
The stage was set, the lights went out all
around the old hotel,
I hate myself for lovin' you and I'm glad the curtain fell.
I
hate that foolish game we played and the need that was expressed
And the mercy that you showed
to me, who ever would have guessed?
I went out on Lower Broadway and I felt that place
within,
That hollow place where martyrs weep and angels play with sin.
Heard your
songs of freedom and man forever stripped,
Acting out his folly while his back is being
whipped.
Like a slave in orbit, he's beaten 'til he's tame,
All for a moment's glory and
it's a dirty, rotten shame.
There are those who worship loneliness, I'm not one of
them,
In this age of fiberglass I'm searching for a gem.
The crystal ball up on the wall
hasn't shown me nothing yet,
I've paid the price of solitude, but at last I'm out of
debt.
Can't recall a useful thing you ever did for me
'Cept pat me on the back one
time when I was on my knees.
We stared into each other's eyes 'til one of us would
break,
No use to apologize, what diff'rence would it make?
So sing your praise of
progress and of the Doom Machine,
The naked truth is still taboo whenever it can be
seen.
Lady Luck, who shines on me, will tell you where I'm at,
I hate myself for lovin'
you, but I should get over that |
