On the old forgotten crossways where the fourteen rivers did meet 
The bones of our elders were lying in the street 
On the dark and dusty desert like a ghost I've flown 
I barely cried, wherever I'd ride I'd never find a home 
Woe on me, somehow I will feel more free 
To wallow in the empty-headed peace 
Where the plain-hearted sorrows never cease 

Well I am just a ramshackle, I go from town to town 
When there is no shelter, I lay down on the ground 
I killed for no reason, I [bad word] upon the vine 
Cussed and moaned and burned the bone when I had the time 
Woe on me, somehow I will feel more free 
To wallow in the empty-headed peace 
Where the plain-hearted sorrows never cease 

There's saints and there is animals, they've taken what they could 
And it's written in the pages to do just what they should 
They stood the test and burned the rest and tore them limb from limb 
Like the fashion with no passion, they opened up their skin 
Woe on me, somehow I will feel more free 
To wallow in the empty-headed peace 
Where the plain-hearted sorrows never cease