this is a song, that i wrote when i was young,
and i call it, the broken hearted blues,
the air on that night, was tempered like a knife,
and the people wore the face masks of a clown,
don he was long, mis-shapen and forlorn,
and his woman ran away without a smile.

days of the earth, are unbroken changeless turf,
but the faces of the men are something else.
in the wind, as a boy, was a spacious sexual toy,
but baby, now he´s a toothless baggy man,
when the hills of the sun, make you feel that you are young,

get good now, and face your face into the wind.
this is a song, that i wrote when i was young,
and i called it the broken hearted blues