| Oh naïve little me
|
| Asking what things you have seen
|
| And you’re vulnerable in your head
|
| You’ll scream and you’ll wail 'till you’re dead
|
| Creatures veiled by night
|
| Following things that aren’t right
|
| And they’re tired and they need to be led
|
| But you’ll scream and wail 'till you’re dead
|
| But give me to a rambling man
|
| Let it always be known that I was who I am
|
| Beaten battered cold
|
| My children will live just to grow old
|
| But if I sit here and weep
|
| I’ll be blown over by the slightest of breeze
|
| And the weak need to be led
|
| And the tender are carried to their bed
|
| And it’s a cold and pale affair
|
| And I’ll be dammed if I’ll be found there
|
| But give me to a rambling man
|
| Let it always be known that I was who I am
|
| It’s funny that the first chords that you come to
|
| Are the minor notes that come to serenade you
|
| And it’s hard to accept yourself as someone, you don’t desire
|
| As someone you don’t want to be
|
| Oh give me to a rambling man
|
| Let it always be known that I was who I am
|
| Oh give me to the rambling man
|
| Let it always be known that I was who I am |