The 33rd Of August - Joan Baez



Today, thereīs no salvation, the bandīs packed up and gone

Left me standing with my penny in my hand

thereīs a big crowd at the station where the blind man sings his song

But he can see what they canīt understand.



(CHORUS)

Itīs the thirty-third of August and Iīm finīlly touching down

Eight days from Sunday finds me Saturday bound.



Once I stumbled through the darkness, tumbled to my knees

A thousand voices screaminī in my brain

Woke up in a squad car, busted down for vagrancy

Outside my cell as sure as hell, it looked like rain.



But now Iīve got my dangerous feelings under lock and chain

Guess I killed my violent nature with a smile

Though the demons danced and sang their song within my fevered brain

Not all my God-like thoughts, Lord, were defiled.



Mickey Newbury

Copyright 1969 by Acuff-Rose Publications, Inc.

BMI 3:42



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