The Naked Truth Is Still

Can't Keep Track Of It No More, Son's Becoming Husbands To Their Mothers, And Old Men Turning Your Daughters Into Whores.

You Say You're Looking For Someone Who'll Pick You Up Each Time You Fall, To Gather Flowers Constantly And To Come Each Time You Call, A Lover Your Life And Nothing More. But It Ain't Me, Babe.

There Are Many Here Among Us Who Feel That Life Is But A Joke. But You And I, We've Been Through That, And This Is Not Our Fate, So Let Us Not Talk Falsely Now, The Hour Is Getting Late.

I'm One Too Many Mornings, And A Thousand Miles Behind.

Night Can Swallow You Up, Yet None Of It Touches You. Around Any Corner, There's A Promise Of Something Daring And Ideal And Things Are Just Getting Going. There's Something Obscenely Joyful Behind Every Door, Either That Or Somebody Crying With Their Head In In Their Hands. A Lazy Rhythm Looms In The Dreamy Air And The Atmosphere Pulsates With Bygone Duels, Past-life Romance, Comrades Requesting Comrades To Aid Them In Some Way. You Can't See It, But You Know It's There