Wash away my troubles, wash away my pain with the rain in Shambala. Wash away my sorrow, wash away my shame with the rain in Shambala. Tell me how does your light shine in the halls of Shambala?
Ring the living bell. Ring the living bell. Shine the living light. Shine the living light. Ring the living bell. Ring the living bell. Been celebrating ‘way too long ‘n’ I’ve been drinkin’, I’m ashamed to tell. Still feel thirsty. God I want to drink the water from the well. Still feel thirsty. God I want to drink and ring the living bell.
Actually, maybe I should quit ringing the damn bell.
Ask me how do I feel - ask me now that we’re cozy and clinging. Well, sir, all I can say is if I were a bell I’d be ringing! If I were a bell, I’d go ding-dong-ding-dong-diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.
And if I had a bell, I’d ring it in the morning. I’d ring it in the evening, all over this land. I’d ring out danger; I’d ring out a warning. I’d ring out love between my brothers and my sisters, all over this land.
This land? It’s your land. It’s also my land. It’s our land all the way from California to the New York islands. It’s our land from the redwood forest to the Gulfstream waters. This land was made for you and me.
Cha-cha-cha.
I was totin’ my pack along the long dusty Winnamucka road when along came a semi with a high canvas-covered load. “If your goin’ to Winnamucka, Mack with me you can ride,” and so I climbed into the cab and then I setteled down inside. He asked me if I’d seen a road with so much dust and sand and I said, “Listen! I’ve traveled every road in this here land!”
I’ve been everywhere, man. I’ve been everywhere, man. Crossed the deserts bare, man. I’ve breatherd the mountain air, man. Travel? I’ve had my share, man. I’ve been everywhere.
We were busted flat in Baton Rouge, waiting for a train, and I was feeling nearly as faded as my jeans. That’s when Bobby thumbed a diesel down just before it rained. It rode us all the way to new orleans. I pulled my harpoon out of my dirty red bandanna: I was playing soft while Bobby sang the blues. The windshield wipers were slapping time, I was holding Bobby’s hand in mine, while we sang every song that driver knew.
Reminds me of a time I was standing on a corner in Winslow, Arizona - such a fine sight to see! It’s a girl (my lord!) in a flatbed Ford slowing down to take a look at me…
But there is no Arizona, no Painted Desert, no Sedona! They don’t exist, these lies he sold her. She woke up to find that there is no Arizona.
Arizona? Why dontcha go my way? Strip off your pride. You’re acting like a teeny-bopper runaway child. Strip off the paint from the face of a little town saint. Arizona? Take off your hobo shoes. Arizona? Why dontcha go my way?
I saw her. She was a hot child in the city (must have been Phoenix). She was running wild and looking pretty. It was sad, really, since she was so young to be loose and on her own. All of the young boys, they all wanted to take her home. When she went downtown the boys all stop and stared. When she went downtown, she walked like she just didn’t care, care.
By the time I get to Phoenix she’ll be rising. She’ll find the note I left hangin’ on her door. She’ll laugh when she reads the part that says I’m leavin’, 'cause I’ve left that girl so many times before.
I’m leavin’ on a jet plane. Don’t know when I’ll be home again.
Big old jet airliner, don’t carry me too far away, oh big old jet airliner, 'cause it’s here that I;ve got to stay. Yeah yeah yeah yeah.
Are you at L.A. International Airport, where the big jet engines roar? With silver wings across the sky, vapor trails that wave goodbye to those below who’ve got to stay at home? I wish that I had flown at night, so I could take that Champagne flight, rid myself of every tear I own.
I’m cryin’ over you. Cryin’, over you. Yes, now you’re gone, and from this moment on I’ll be cryin’.
Jojo was a man, who thought he was a loner, but he knew it wouldn’t last.
Jojo left his home in Tucson, Arizona, for some California grass.
Coming into Los Angeles. Bringing in a couple of keys. Don’t touch my bags if you please, Mister Customs Man.
She had to leave Los Angeles. All her toys wore out in black and her boys had too. … She had to leave Los Angeles. She found it hard to say goodbye to her own best friend. She bought a clock on Hollywood Blvd the day she left. It felt sad she had to get out.
I wonder if she misses… those Hollywood nights. In those Hollywood Hills. She was looking so right, in her diamonds and frills.