Beauty walks a razors edge, someday I'll make it mine.
The walls of pride are high and wide, can't see over to the other side.
I have tried my hand at bribery, blackmail, and deceit. And I've served time for everything, cept beggin on the street.
The radio makes hideous sounds.
Just in time for Bob Dylan to recoil from the attention, leave the city for Woodstock, and turn his back on fame.
Satan will give you a little taste, then he'll move in with rapid speed.