| Some say that her profession |
| Is a low down dirty shame |
| And some folks say shes just some hippie chick |
| Thats half insane |
| She talked to me about someone she called The Son of Man |
| She told me things I wasn’t quite prepared to understand |
| Perhaps she was a vision of delirium I seen |
| This prostitute I meet last night named Mary Magdeline |
| Told a friend about |
| The strange experience I had |
| With Benzedrine indifference |
| He assured me I was mad |
| His dad had been a Preacher |
| Quoted scriptures from his head |
| Disbelief was on his face |
| Especially when I said |
| She talked to me about someone she called The Son of Man |
| She told me things I wasn’t quite prepared to understand |
| Perhaps she was a vision of delirium I seen |
| This prostitute I meet last night named Mary Magdeline |
| With hepatitis eyelids |
| I went tripping down the street |
| The local Catholic mission |
| Offered rest for weary feet |
| The Priest heard my confession |
| While his breath smelled just like wine |
| He gave me the impression |
| I was waisting sacred time |
| He talked to me about someone he called The Son of Man |
| He told me things I wasn’t quite prepared to understand |
| He talked to me of vision and things he’d seen in dreams |
| And he talked about a prostitute named Mary Magdeline |
| He talked to me about someone he called The Son of Man |
| He told me things I wasn’t quite prepared to understand |
| Perhaps it was a vision of delirium I seen |
| That prostitute I meet last night called Mary Magdeline |