Автор мелодии: Bob Dylan / Jimi Hendrix
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"There must be some way out of here,"
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said the joker to the thief,
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"There's too much confusion,
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I can't get no relief.
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Businessmen, they drink my wine,
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plowmen dig my earth,
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None of them along the line
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know what any of it is worth."
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"No reason to get excited,"
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the thief, he kindly spoke,
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"There are many here among us
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who feel that life is but a joke.
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But you and I, we've been through that,
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and this is not our fate,
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So let us not talk falsely now,
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the hour is getting late."
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All along the watchtower,
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princes kept the view
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While all the women came and went,
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barefoot servants, too.
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Outside in the distance
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a wildcat did growl,
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Two riders were approaching,
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the wind began to howl.