by Bob Dylan and Richard Manuel



We carried you in our arms

On Independence Day,

And now you'd throw us all aside

And put us on our way.

Oh what dear daughter 'neath the sun

Would treat a father so,

To wait upon him hand and foot

And always tell him, "No"?

Tears of rage, tears of grief,

Why must I always be the thief?

Come to me now, you know

We're so alone

And life is brief.



We pointed out the way to go

And scratched your name in sand,

Though you just thought it was nothing more

Than a place for you to stand.

Now, I want you to know that while we watched,

You discover there was no one true.

Most ev'rybody really thought

It was a childish thing to do.

Tears of rage, tears of grief,

Must I always be the thief?

Come to me now, you know

We're so low

And life is brief.



It was all very painless

When you went out to receive

All that false instruction

Which we never could believe.

And now the heart is filled with gold

As if it was a purse.

But, oh, what kind of love is this

Which goes from bad to worse?

Tears of rage, tears of grief,

Must I always be the thief?

Come to me now, you know

We're so low

And life is brief.