[Orig Cm. . . transposed to Bm A G on D guitar]
There must be some kind of way out of here, said the joker to the thief
There's too much confusion,
I can't get no relief
Businessman they drink my wine,
plowman dig my earth
None will level on the line,
nobody offered his word, hey
No reason to get excited,
the thief, he kindly spoke
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
All along the watchtower
Princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too
Outside in the cold distance, a wildcat did growl
Two riders were approaching,
and the wind began to howl