There's no home in this world anymore for a gentleman an inmate in a
Tuxedo strolling with indifferent partners beneath the chandelier
Looking for someone to bleed to but I would be your gentleman if you
Would only let this ragged heart please you and there would be
Laughter, there would be shame
There would laughter in a gentleman again
Come riding riding riding come running for your life come
Take this song of my brothers come take this healing knife
There's no home in this world anymore for a saint with a salesman to
Franchise his sandals to heal the faithful and hear all their
Complaints in the theaters of Los Angeles to stand in the garden and
Ask for nothing there's nothing that would ever be more dangerous
There will be robes and gowns,
There will be saints there will be
Magic clowns dressed for the masquerade
My brothers are the ragged bones of volcanoes piled as the walls of
Loneliness my brothers are the scattered chunks of tombstones like
Weeds on abandoned mountains my brothers are the windows of the
Hurricane that open on everyday heroes there will be brutal times,
There will be grace there will be
Diamond eyes, the lights of an eloquent face
But there's no home in this world anymore for a wanderer, a waistcoat,
A bow and arrow a pioneer on the trails in the
Hills of Cumberland riding logs on the river Ohio
But I seek another highway where they
Learn to heal the wings of a wounded sparrow
Come stand before this fire, glowing on your skin
Come take these searching eyes someplace they've never been