As I walk these narrow streets where a million passing feet have throd before me With my guitar in my hand suddenly I realize nobody knows me Where yesterday the multitudes screamed and cried my name out for a song Today the streets are empty and the crowds have all gone home I pass a million houses but there is no place where I belong All I knew to give it was song after song after song All the truth I try to tell you were as distant to you as the moon Born 200 years too late and 200 years too soon I'm a child of this age locked inside the pages of your book And what I am but dust and clay and other children stop take look Will they marwel at the miracles I did perform and to the heights I did inspired Or will they tear out the pages of the book to light a fire? With the rain on my face there is no place where I belong Did you forget the folk singer so soon? And did you forget my song?