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Clapton |
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I was turned out of Cafe Cologne |
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As the sun came up the cock was crowing, |
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And the ground kept swaying underneath my feet, |
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All the drifters are Americans, |
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Chasing dreams to Amsterdam, |
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Stumbling briskly past me on the street, |
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And I've got this feeling in my heart, |
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That it's time to raise the blinds and change the scene; |
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AND DOWN THE ROAD I'M GOING |
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I paint miracles on pavements, |
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And don't expect no payment, |
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Unless of course the stranger's feeling kind, |
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I've lived this way for years and years, |
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And sometimes shed a madman's tears, |
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But my head's bursting with life most of the time; |
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And I've got this feeling in my heart, |
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That it's time to raise the blinds and change the scene; |
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And down the road i'm going |
