As I walk these narrow streets where a million passing feet have throd before me
With my guitar in my hand suddenly I realize nobody knows me
Where yesterday the multitudes screamed and cried my name out for a song
Today the streets are empty and the crowds have all gone home

I pass a million houses but there is no place where I belong
All I knew to give it was song after song after song
All the truth I try to tell you were as distant to you as the moon
Born 200 years too late and 200 years too soon

I'm a child of this age locked inside the pages of your book
And when I am but dust and clay and other children stop take look
Will they marvel at the miracles I did perform and to the heights I did inspire
Or will they tear out the pages of the book to light a fire?

With the rain on my face there is no place where I belong
Did you forget the folk singer so soon?
And did you forget my song?