Sundown, Yellow Moon, I Replay The Past

A Million Faces At My Feet But All I See Are Dark Eyes.

There Is A House In New Orleans They Call The Rising Sun, And It's Been The Ruin Of Many A Poor Boy And God I Know I'm One.

Shakespeare, He's In The Alley With His Pointed Shoes And His Bells, Speaking To Some French Girl Who Says She Knows Me Well.

My Senses Have Been Stripped, My Hands Can't Feel To Grip, My Toes To Numb To Step, Wait Only For My Boot Heels To Be Wandering.

There's Not Even Room Enough To Be Anywhere/it's Not Dark Yet, But It's Getting There.../i Was Born Here And I'll Die Here Against My Will/i Know It Looks Like I'm Moving, But I'm Standing Still.