Third Week In The Chelsea

Sometimes I feel like I'm leaving life behind
Hands are moving faster than the moving of my mind
Thoughts and generalizations of my dreams are yet unborn
Hope I may find them 'fore my moving gets too worn
If only I'd have been there at the dawn of the dawn
On an early New York morning, the mirror in the hall
Showed me a face I did not know at all
Lines were drawn around a pair of eyes that opened wide
When I looked into them, I found nothing left inside
So I walked into a little room that felt so out of sight
So we go on moving, trying to make this image real
Straining every nerve not to know what we really feel
Straining every nerve and making everybody see
What they read in Rolling Stone has really come to be
Trying to do what it takes to get that reality
All my friends keep telling me that it would be a shame
To break up such a grand success and tear apart a name
All I know is what I feel whenever I'm not playing
Emptiness ain't where it's at and neither's real pain
What is going to happen now is anybody's guess
I can't spend my time with them, guess I need a rest
Time's getting late now and the sun is setting low
My body's feeling tired and I've carried another's load
Sunshine's waiting for me a little further down the road