HARD

Lyrics:

Four o’clock in the afternoon and I didn’t feel like very much

I said to myself, ”Where are you golden boy? Where is your famous golden touch?”

I thought you knew where all of the elephants lie down

I thought you were the crown prince of all the wheels in Ivory town

Just take a look at your body now, there’s nothing much to save

And a bitter voice in the mirror cries, ”Hey, prince, you need a shave”

Now if you can manage to get your trembling fingers to behave

Why don’t you try unwrapping a stainless steel razor blade?

That’s right, it’s come to this… Yes, it’s come to this…

And wasn’t it a long way down… Wasn’t it a strange way down…

–

There’s no hot water and the cold is running thin

Well, what do you expect from the kind of places you’ve been living in?

Don’t drink from that cup, it’s all caked and and cracked along the rim

That’s not the electric light, my friend, that is your vision growing dim

Cover up your face with soap, there, now you’re Santa Claus

And you’ve got a gift for anyone who will give you his applause

I thought you were a racing man, but you couldn’t take the pace

That’s a funeral in the mirror and it’s stopping at your face

That’s right, it’s come to this… Yes, it’s come to this…

And wasn’t it a long way down… Wasn’t it a strange way down…

–

Once there was a path and a girl with chestnut hair

And you passed the summers picking all of the berries that grew there

There were times she was a woman, there were times she was just a child

And you held her in the shadows, where the raspberries grow wild

And you climbed the twilight mountains and you sang about the view

And everywhere that you wandered, love seemed to go along with you

That’s a hard one to remember, yes, it makes you clench your fist

And then the veins stand out like highways, all along your wrist

And yes, it’s come to this… It’s come to this…

And wasn’t it a long way down… Wasn’t it a strange way down…

–

You can still find a job, go out and talk to a friend

On the back of every magazine, there are those coupons you can send

Why don’t you join the Rosicrucians? They will give you back your hope…

You can find your love with diagrams on a plain brown envelope

But you’ve used up all your coupons, except the one that seems

To be written on your wrist, along with several thousand dreams

Now Santa Claus comes forward, that’s a razor in his mitt

And he puts on his dark glasses and he shows you where to hit

And then the cameras pan, the stand-in stuntman

Dress rehearsal rag… It’s just the dress rehearsal rag…

You know, this dress rehearsal rag… It’s just a dress rehearsal rag…

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