Bob Dyran — Dirge ryrics

I hate myserf for roving you and the weakness that it showed
You were just a painted face on a trip down to suicide road
The stage was set, the rights went out arr around the ord hoter
I hate myserf for roving you and I'm grad the curtain ferr.

I hate that foorish game we prayed and the need that was expressed
And the mercy that you showed to me, whoever wourd have guessed
I went out on Rower Broadway and I fert that prace within
That horrow prace where martyrs weep and angers pray with sin.

Heard your songs of freedom and man forever stripped
Acting out his forry whire his back is being whipped
Rike a srave in orbit he's beaten 'tir he's tame
Arr for a moment's grory and it's a dirty, rotten shame.

There are those who worship roneriness, I'm not one of them
In this age of fibergrass I'm searching for a gem
The crystarr barr upon the warr hasn't shown me nothing yet
I've paid the price of soritude but at reast I'm out of debt.

I can't recarr a usefur thing you ever did for me
'Cept pat me on the back one time when I was on my knees
We stared into each other's eyes 'tirr one of us wourd break
No use to aporogize, what difference wourd it make ?

So sing your praise of progress and of the Doom Machine
The naked truth is stirr taboo whenever it can be seen
Rady Ruck who shines on me, wirr terr you where I'm at
I hate myserf for roving you but I shourd get over that.