knew a man, he always dressed in rags
I travelled with him when I was still a child
His constant companion, I always did ride

The good book went with him, thru devil wind and sage
The pages were yellowed and tumbled-down with age
The mark of his fingers was on every page

In desert dry country towns, the people would come
From sin and confusion, to him they would run
And wait by the river for the spirit of God

He would lead them into the river while old hymns were sung
And heaving and lashing and speaking in tongues
He'd drown that old devil before he was done

He would listen to the river and talk with the crowd
And grace rose above them like a shining white cloud
He'd say catch you some magic and you got hold of God

I was much older when the desert set in
He couldn't hear the river and it couldn't hear him
His faith and his money and he, they grew thin

He traded the good book for some road maps and then
All of those highways they just spread up around him like nets
And I guess that he got lost and he got tangled up in them

He lost hold of magic, people laugh, the say he lost the call
But every day I see old men like mountains and they just crumble and they fall
And I don't know what these days are doing to us all