Biograph lyrics

Well, the rainman comes with his magic wand
And the judge says, "Mona can't have no bond."
And the walls collide, Mona cries,
And the rainman leaves in the wolfman's disguise.

I wanna be your lover, baby, I wanna be your man.
I wanna be your lover, baby,
I don't wanna be hers, I wanna be yours.

Well, the undertaker in his midnight suit
Says to the masked man, "Ain't you cute!"

Everything went from bad to worse, money never changed a thing,
Death kept followinâ, trackinâ us down, at least I heard your bluebird sing.
Now somebodyâs got to show their hand, time is an enemy,
I know youâre long gone,
I guess it must be up to me.

If Iâd thought about it I never wouldâve done it, I guess I wouldâve let it slide,

Sometimes I'm in the mood, I wanna leave my lonesome home

And sometimes I'm in the mood, I wanna hear my milk cow moan

And sometimes I'm in the mood, I wanna hit the highway road

But then again, but then again, I said oh, I said oh, I said
Oh babe, I'm in the mood for you.

Sometimes I'm in the mood, Lord, I had my overflowin' fill

She was the rose of sharon from paradise lost
From the city of seven hills near the place of the cross.
I was playing a show in miami in the theater of divine comedy.
Told about jesus, told about the rain,
She told me about the jungle where her brothers were slain
By a man who danced on the roof of the embassy.

Was she a child or a woman, I canât say which

Well, sheâs got jet pilot eyes from her hips on down.
All the bombardiers are trying to force her out of town.
Sheâs five feet nine and she carries a monkey wrench.
She weighs more by the foot than she does by the inch.
She got all the downtown boys, all at her command
But youâve got to watch her closely âcause she ainât no woman
Sheâs a man.

I can hear the turning of the key
Iâve been deceived by the clown inside of me.
I thought that he was righteous but heâs vain
Oh, somethingâs a-telling me I wear the ball and chain.

My patron saint is a-fighting with a ghost
Heâs always off somewhere when I need him most.
The spanish moon is rising on the hill
But my heart is a-tellinâ me I love ya still.

You got a lotta nerve
To say you are my friend
When I was down
You just stood there grinning

You got a lotta nerve
To say you got a helping hand to lend
You just want to be on
The side that's winning

You say I let you down
You know it's not like that
If you're so hurt
Why then don't you show it

You say you lost your faith
But that's not where it's at

I got mixed up confusion
Man, itâs a-killinâ me

Well, thereâs too many people
And theyâre all too hard to please

Well, my hatâs in my hand
Babe, Iâm walkinâ down the line

Anâ Iâm lookinâ for a woman
Whose headâs mixed up like mine

Well, my headâs full of questions
My tempâratureâs risinâ fast

Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself âneath the strength of strings
No voice can hope to hum.

Struck by the sounds before the sun,
I knew the night had gone.
The morning breeze like a bugle blew
Against the drums of dawn.
Lay down your weary tune, lay down,
Lay down the song you strum,
And rest yourself âneath the strength of strings

He sits in your room, his tomb, with a fist full of tacks

Preoccupied with his vengeance

Cursing the dead that can't answer him back

I'm sure that he has no intentions
Of looking your way, unless it's to say

That he needs you to test his inventions.

Can you please crawl out your window?

Use your arms and legs it won't ruin you

How can you say he will haunt you?

You will search, babe,
At any cost.
But how long, babe,
Can you search for what's not lost?
Ev'rybody will help you,
Some people are very kind.
But if I can save you any time,
Come on, give it to me,
I'll keep it with mine.

I can't help it
If you might think I'm odd,
If I say I'm not loving you for what you are
But for what you're not.
Everybody will help you

Bad news, bad news,

Come to me where I sleep,

Turn, turn, turn again.

Sayin' one of your friends

Is in trouble deep,
Turn, turn to the rain

And the wind.

Tell me the trouble,

Tell once to my ear,

Turn, turn, turn again.

Joliet prison

And ninety-nine years,

Turn, turn to the rain

And the wind.

Oh what's the charge

Of how this came to be,

Turn, turn, turn again.