and yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm and to yourself you sometimes say
"I never knew it was gonna be this way why didn't they tell me the day I was born"
and you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat and you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet and yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air and the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare
and yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying and yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin' and yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet and you need it badly but it lays on the street
- bob dylan
man in cathedral santa fe, new mexico