Traffic, Traffic - John Barleycorn Must Die (1970) by Traffic (보컬), Traffic (보컬) on maniadb.com

Like a hurricane around your heart when earth and sky are torn apart
He comes gathering up the bits while hoping that the puzzle fits
He leaves you, he leaves you
Freedom rider

With a silver star between his eyes that open up at hidden lies
Big man crying with defeat, see people gathering in the street
You feel him, you feel him
Freedom rider

When lightning strikes you to the bone, you turn around, you're all alone
By the time you hear that silent (or siren?) sound, then your soul is in the lost and found
Forever, forever
Freedom rider
Here it comes

Found someone who can comfort me
But there are always exceptions
And she's good at appearing sane
But I just want you to know

She's the one makes me feel so good
When everything is against me
Picks me up when I'm feeling bad
So I got something to show

*Staring at empty pages
Centered 'round the same old fire
Staring at empty pages
Burning along the edges

Often lost and forgotten
The weakness and the mud
I've been thinking I'm working too hard
But I got something to show

*Repeat

Struggling with confusion, disillusionment too
Can turn a man into a shadow, crying out from pain

Through his nightmare vision, he sees nothing, only well
Blind with the beggar's mind, he's but a stranger
He's but a stranger to himself

Suspended from a rope inside a bucket down a hole
His hands are torn and bloodied from the scratching at his soul

There were Three Men came out of the West,
Their fortunes for to try.
And these Three Men made a solemn Vow,
John Barleycorn must die.
They've plowed, They've sown, They've harrowed him in,
Thrown clods upon his head.
And these Three Men made a solemn Vow,
John Barleycorn was dead.
They've let him lie for a very long time,
'Til the rains from Heaven did fall.
And little Sir John sprung up his head,
And so amazed Them all.
They've let him stand 'til Midsummer's Day,
'Til he looked both pale and wan.
And little Sir John's grown a long, long beard,
And so become a man.
They've hired men with their scythes so sharp,
To cut him off at the knees.
They've rolled him and tied him by the waist,
Serving him most barb'rously.
They've hired men with their sharp pitchforks,
Who pricked him to the Heart.
And the Loader, he has served him worse than that,
For he's bound him to the cart.
They've wheeled him around and around a field,
'Til They came unto a barn.
And there They made a solemn Oath,
On poor John Barleycorn.
They've hired men with their crab-tree sticks,
To cord him skin from bone,.
And the Miller, he has served him worse than that,
For he's ground him between two stones.
And little Sir John and the nutbrown bowl,
And his brandy in the glass.
And little Sir John and the nutbrown bowl,
Proved the strongest man at last.
The Huntsman, he can't hunt the fox
Nor so loudly to blow his horn.
And the Tinker, he can't mend kettle nor pots,
Without a little barleycorn.

Once again I'm northward bound, on the edge of sea and sky
Tomorrow is my friend, my one and only friend
We travel on together searching for the end

I'm a traveling soul and every mother's son
Although I'm getting tired I've got to travel on
Can you please help, my god? Can you please help, my god?
Can you please help, my god? I think it's only fair

Once again I'm northward bound, on the edge of sea and sky
Together we will go and see what waits for us
A backdoor to the universe that opens doors

We are not like all the rest
You can see us any day of the week.
Come around, sit down, take a sniff, fall asleep
Baby you don't have to speak.
I'd like to show you where it is
But then it wouldn't even mean a thing.
Nothing is easy, baby just please me
Who knows what tomorrow may bring.

If for just one moment
You could step outside your mind.
And float across the ceiling
I don't think the folks would mind.

We are not like all the rest
You can see us any day of the week.
Come around, sit down, take a sniff, fall asleep
Baby you don't have to speak.
I'd like to show you where it is
But then it wouldn't even mean a thing.
Nothing is easy, baby just please me
Who knows what tomorrow may bring.

Well if for just one moment
You could step outside your mind.
And float across the ceiling
I don't think the folks would mind.

Who knows (who knows, who knows) what tomorrow may bring (repeat to fade)