The Debt I Owe
Every day, several times a day,
a thought comes over me.
I owe more debts than I ever can pay back
more money than I'll ever see.
I walk around the streets of Coney Island
I look through the windows of every store
I peep through the hallways and the doorways and
I think of this debt I owe.
I peep through the hallways and the doorways and
I think of this debt I owe.
I feel like a piece of crushed wreckage,
some smashed car in a salvage yard,
a vision of an old newspaper
blown across an old navy yard,
a curbstone chipped and beaten,
a piece of gum stuck to a shoe,
an empty pack of used matches,
an empty version of you.
an empty pack of used matches,
an empty version of you.
People stroll and they saunter
like papercups thrown in the trash.
They're crawling all along the sidewalks,
their wallets stuck in their pants.
And it comes over me like a mist rising,
a fog falling over a ship.
The bell is ringing out danger,
but it's too late to cancel this trip.
I see the mist rising before me,
my hand reappears by my face.
By my waist a cold empty pocket,
on my wrist the tears from your face.
And I think of what I thought this cold morning,
it's the same thing I'm thinking at three.
I owe more than I can ever pay back,
more than I'll ever see.
I think of what I thought this cold morning,
I think of what I'm thinking at three.
At ten and at midnight the same damn thing,
I wish this debt was about money.
At ten and at midnight the same damn thing,
I wish this debt was about money.
a thought comes over me.
I owe more debts than I ever can pay back
more money than I'll ever see.
I walk around the streets of Coney Island
I look through the windows of every store
I peep through the hallways and the doorways and
I think of this debt I owe.
I peep through the hallways and the doorways and
I think of this debt I owe.
I feel like a piece of crushed wreckage,
some smashed car in a salvage yard,
a vision of an old newspaper
blown across an old navy yard,
a curbstone chipped and beaten,
a piece of gum stuck to a shoe,
an empty pack of used matches,
an empty version of you.
an empty pack of used matches,
an empty version of you.
People stroll and they saunter
like papercups thrown in the trash.
They're crawling all along the sidewalks,
their wallets stuck in their pants.
And it comes over me like a mist rising,
a fog falling over a ship.
The bell is ringing out danger,
but it's too late to cancel this trip.
I see the mist rising before me,
my hand reappears by my face.
By my waist a cold empty pocket,
on my wrist the tears from your face.
And I think of what I thought this cold morning,
it's the same thing I'm thinking at three.
I owe more than I can ever pay back,
more than I'll ever see.
I think of what I thought this cold morning,
I think of what I'm thinking at three.
At ten and at midnight the same damn thing,
I wish this debt was about money.
At ten and at midnight the same damn thing,
I wish this debt was about money.
Credits
Writer(s): Woody Guthrie, Lou A Reed
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
- Note of Hope
- Wild Card In The Hole
- Ease My Revolutionary Mind
- The Debt I Owe
- Union Love Juice
- Peace Pin Boogie
- Voice
- I Heard A Man Talking
- Old Folks
- On The High Lonesome
All Album Tracks: Note of Hope - A Celebration of Woody Guthrie (+Digital Booklet) >
Altri album
- Open Invitation - Single
- Ghetto Ghosts (Live 1972)
- Gee Whiz, 1958-1964 - EP
- Words & Music, May 1965
- I'm So Free: The 1971 RCA Demos
- Men of Good Fortune - May 1965 Demo - Single
- Heroin - May 1965 Demo - Single
- I'm Waiting for the Man (May 1965 Demo)
- Live At Alice Tully Hall (January 27, 1973 - 2nd Show)
- When Your Heart is Made out of Ice (Live)
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