(Al Kooper) 
Father of my morning, 
Once my child to the night 
I see that you have minds to cop 
And I can only watch the sickened sorrow 

Little do you know 
of the progressions that you teach 
the people that you reach are tired 
of livin' in a world of elastic towers 
dance with them and sing a song of changes 
and talk with them of life and all its dangers 
surround yourself with now familiar strangers 
who kiss and who hug and eventually mug you of your time 

And the clock on the wall is a bore 
as you wander past the door 
and find him lying on the floor 
as he begs you for some more, you frozen smile 

You cannot ever picture me 
you know me by my thoughts 
file for your travelogue 
oblivious to the night, the fog around you 
The germs they are rediculous 
they bother you at night 
the blood [bad word] to your brain 
the ticket on the plane you're never catching 
the price you pay exclusive of your taxes 
to chop you up inside with tiny axes 
the girl looks up to you from floors she waxes 
and speaks to your belt with tears among her eyes 

and the clock on the wall is a bore 
as you wander past the door 
and find him lying on the floor 
as he begs you for some more, you frozen smile 

The metaphysic wrinkles in the face of what you face 
Are hidden by the fake-up man 
who lives inside the sterno can beside you 
Now climb ye to the mountains 
as the sun is almost gone 
escaping from your other selves 
your brothers hide among the shelves inside you 
the games that people play can only bore you 
but only those that know you don't ignore you 
how many times have [bad word] there to restore you 
And caught you lying on the couch with father time 

and the clock on the wall is a bore 
as you wander past the door 
and find him lying on the floor 
as he begs you for some more, you frozen smile