| I saw you from a foreign window
|
| Bearing down the sufferin' road
|
| You were carryin' your burden
|
| To the palace of the Lord
|
| To the palace of the Lord
|
| I spied you from a foreign window
|
| When the lilacs were in bloom
|
| And the sun shone through your window pane
|
| To the place you kept your books
|
| You were reading on your sofa
|
| You were singin' every prayer
|
| That the masters had instilled in you
|
| Since Lord Byron loved despair
|
| In the palace of the Lord
|
| In the palace of the Lord
|
| And if you get it right this time
|
| You don’t have to come back again
|
| And if you get it right this time
|
| There’s no need to explain
|
| I saw you from a foreign
|
| Bearing down the sufferin' road
|
| You were carryin' your burden
|
| You were singing about Rimbaud
|
| I was going down to Geneva
|
| When the kingdom had been found
|
| I was giving you protection
|
| From the loneliness of the crowd
|
| In the palace of the Lord
|
| In the palace of the Lord
|
| They were giving you religion
|
| Breaking bread and drinking wine
|
| And you laid out on the green hills
|
| Just like when you were a child
|
| I saw you from a foreign window
|
| You were trying to find your way back home
|
| You were carrying your defects
|
| Sleeping on a pallet on the floor
|
| In the palace of the Lord
|
| In the palace of the Lord
|
| In the palace of the Lord |