I thought I had died . . . I've been on Venice Beach with my toes hot in the sand, my head so high in the sky with no place to land. Known the pain of tenderness, the sin of togetherness, Seen the hurt of helpfulness, the danger of self righteousness. Dug deep in all my pockets, came out of all my closets staked out all my claims, played out all my games Looking for change . . . . I've seen it all, yet I have not seen a thing.
Pages are different, but the book is still the same.
Paupers in rags, ornamented kings What looks different is really all the same. Drank all my wine, and I got thirsty again.