All these people that I used to know, they're an illusion to me now. Some are mathematicians, some are carpenters' wives.

No one is free, even the birds are chained to the sky.

Come you masters of war You that build all the guns You that build the death planes You that build the big bombs You that hide behind walls You that hide behind desks I just want you to know I can see through your masks.

You breathed on me and made my life a richer one to live, when I was deep in poverty you taught me how to give. Dried the tears up from my dreams and pulled me from my hole, quenched my thirst and satisfied the burning in my soul.

Heard ten thousand whispering and nobody listening. Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughing. Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter.

The woman I love she got a prize fighter nose, cauliflower ears and a run in her hose.

The harmonica is the world's best-selling musical instrument. You're welcome.