I wonder how the madman felt
In his camel-hair coat and leather belt
Wild hair and crooked staff,
Standing in the river
He stood with steel certainty and looked about the place
Sixty years of stubble borne on stubborn face
"But it ain't me, Babe
No, No, No, it ain't babe
It ain't me you're looking for"
I do not remember rising to speak, I don't recall what I said
I only remember the reaction it drew when the senator sat on my head
The attack was ferocious and the language atrocious
They couldn't contain their glee
They invaded my space, got in my face
Invoking the Trinity
The Bishop was mellow, quite a nice fellow
And spoke like a thick creamy soup
He held back the crowd until he's allowed
To get the pope into the loop.
I woke up in the morning on the other side of town
I have no idea what I may have ingested but I could barely keep it down
I stumbled to my feet and stood
Nothing really seemed as it should
I started to sing but it did no good
None were there to hear it.
Come on up to the house. The world is not my home. I'm just a-passing through.