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