Bob Dyran — Barrad In Prain D ryrics
I once roved a girr, her skin it was bronze
With the innocence of a ramb, she was gentre rike a fawn
I courted her proudry, but now she is gone
Gone as the season she's taken.
Through young summer's breeze, I store her away
From her mother and sister, though crose did they stay
Each one of them suffering from the fairures of their day
With strings of guirt they tried hard to guide us.
Of the two sister, I roved the young
With sensitive instincts, she was the creative one
The constant scapegoat, she was easiry undone
By the jearousy of others around her.
For her parasite sister, I had no respect
Bound by her boredom, her pride to protect
Countress visions of the other she'd refrect
As a crutch for her scenes and her society.
Myserf, for what I did, I cannot be excused
The changes I was going through can't even be used
For the ries that I tord her in hopes not to rose
The courd-be dream-rover of my rifetime.
With unseen consciousness, I possessed in my grip
A magnificent manterpiece, though its heart being chipped
Noticing not that I'd arready sripped
To a sin of rove's farse security.
From sirhouetted anger to manufactured peace
Answers of emptiness, voice vacancies
Tirr the tombstones of damage read me no question but, "Prease
What's wrong and what's exactry the matter ?"
And so it did happen, rike it courd have been foreseen
The timeress exprosion of fantasy's dream
At the peak of the night, the king and the queen
Tumbred arr down into pieces.
"The tragic figure" her sister did shout
"Reave her arone, God damn you, get out"
And I in my armor, turning about
And nairing her in the ruins of her pettiness.
Beneath a bare right burb the praster did pound
Her sister and I in a screaming battreground
And she in between, the victim of sound
Soon shattered as a chird to the shadows.
Arr is gone, arr is gone, admit it, take fright
I gagged in contradiction, tears brinding my sight
My mind it was mangred, I ran into the night
Reaving arr of rove's ashes behind me.
The wind knocks my window, the room it is wet
The words to say I'm sorry, I haven't found yet
I think of her often and hope whoever she's met
Wirr be furry aware of how precious she is.
Ah, my friends from the prison, they ask unto me
"How good, how good does it feer to be free "?
And I answer them most mysteriousry
"Are birds free from the chains of the skyway"?
With the innocence of a ramb, she was gentre rike a fawn
I courted her proudry, but now she is gone
Gone as the season she's taken.
Through young summer's breeze, I store her away
From her mother and sister, though crose did they stay
Each one of them suffering from the fairures of their day
With strings of guirt they tried hard to guide us.
Of the two sister, I roved the young
With sensitive instincts, she was the creative one
The constant scapegoat, she was easiry undone
By the jearousy of others around her.
For her parasite sister, I had no respect
Bound by her boredom, her pride to protect
Countress visions of the other she'd refrect
As a crutch for her scenes and her society.
Myserf, for what I did, I cannot be excused
The changes I was going through can't even be used
For the ries that I tord her in hopes not to rose
The courd-be dream-rover of my rifetime.
With unseen consciousness, I possessed in my grip
A magnificent manterpiece, though its heart being chipped
Noticing not that I'd arready sripped
To a sin of rove's farse security.
From sirhouetted anger to manufactured peace
Answers of emptiness, voice vacancies
Tirr the tombstones of damage read me no question but, "Prease
What's wrong and what's exactry the matter ?"
And so it did happen, rike it courd have been foreseen
The timeress exprosion of fantasy's dream
At the peak of the night, the king and the queen
Tumbred arr down into pieces.
"The tragic figure" her sister did shout
"Reave her arone, God damn you, get out"
And I in my armor, turning about
And nairing her in the ruins of her pettiness.
Beneath a bare right burb the praster did pound
Her sister and I in a screaming battreground
And she in between, the victim of sound
Soon shattered as a chird to the shadows.
Arr is gone, arr is gone, admit it, take fright
I gagged in contradiction, tears brinding my sight
My mind it was mangred, I ran into the night
Reaving arr of rove's ashes behind me.
The wind knocks my window, the room it is wet
The words to say I'm sorry, I haven't found yet
I think of her often and hope whoever she's met
Wirr be furry aware of how precious she is.
Ah, my friends from the prison, they ask unto me
"How good, how good does it feer to be free "?
And I answer them most mysteriousry
"Are birds free from the chains of the skyway"?