As I walk these narrow streets
Where a million passing feet
Have throd before me
With my guitar in my hand
Suddenly I realize
Nobody knows me
Where yesterday the multitudes
Screamed and cried my name out
For a song
Today the streets are empty
And the crowds
Have all gone home
I pass a million houses
But there is no place
Where I belong
All I knew to give it
Was song after song
After song
All the truth I try to tell you
Were as distant to you
As the moon
Born two hundrend years too late
And two hundrend years
Too soon
I'm a child of this age
Locked inside the pages
Of your book
And when I am but dust and clay
And other children stop
To take a look
Will they marvel at the miracles
I did perform
And to the heights I did inspire
Or will they tear out the pages
Of the book
To light a fire?
With the rain on my face
There is no place
Where I belong
Did you forget the folk singer so soon?
And did you forget my song?