Like a rolling stone?
Like a rolling stone
Like the FBI and the CIA
And the BBC, BB King
And Doris Day
Matt Busby
Dig it, dig it, dig it, dig it, dig it, dig it, dig it

Where has the love gone?
It used to be chained to this tree
You say you stay local
Well, no one's more local than me

I will not hold a torch for you, though
All the same
The most I will do is
Light a candle in your name

Ratchet chicks are falling
Yeah, from the fucking trees
Catch them when they're falling
On their bended knees

You can make up your own mind, child
You don't have to take it from me
But you'll know you've made the right decision
When you feel expansive and free

'Cause you were the one who judged me
For shaking the blues
And you can't deny that these things make poverty tolerable
If only for an hour or two

Ratchet chicks are falling
Yeah, from the fucking trees
Catch them when they're falling
On their bended knees

You can make up your own mind, child
You don't have to take it from me
But you'll know you've made the right decision
When you're finally free