I was turned out of Cafe Cologne
As the sun came up the cock was crowing,
And the ground kept swaying underneath my feet,
All the drifters are Americans,
Chasing dreams to Amsterdam,
Stumbling briskly past me on the street,
And I've got this feeling in my heart,
That it's time to raise the blinds and change the scene;
AND DOWN THE ROAD I'M GOING

I paint miracles on pavements,
And don't expect no payment,
Unless of course the stranger's feeling kind,
I've lived this way for years and years,
And sometimes shed a madman's tears,
But my head's bursting with life most of the time;
And I've got this feeling in my heart,
That it's time to raise the blinds and change the scene;
AND DOWN THE ROAD I'M GOING