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.
Businessmen they drink my wine,
plowmen dig my earth
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth
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
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