Album: Songs of Love and Hate (1971)

Capo 1
Advice: when passing from C/G to Em, play the open A string.

[Intro]


[Verse 1]
            
I stepped into

           
 an avalanche,
          
it covered up 

   
my soul;
              
When I am not 

     
this hunchback

 that you see,
        
I sleep beneat

           
h a golden hil

l.
             
You who wish t

  
o conquer pain

,
            
you must learn

              
, learn to ser

        
ve me well.

[Verse 2]
            
You strike my 

           
side by accide

   
nt
          
As you go down

          
 for your gold

.
              
The cripple he

            
re that you cl


othe and feed
         
Is neither sta

#        
rved nor cold;
             
He does not as

           
k for your com

pany,
              
Not at the cen

            
tre, the centr

           
e of the world

   
.

[Verse 3]
            
When I am on a

       
 pedestal,
           
You did not ra

#      
ise me there.
              
Your laws do n

      
ot compel me
        
To kneel grote

         
sque and bare.
             
I myself am th

  
e pedestal
            
For this ugly 

              
hump at which 

         
you stare.

[Verse 4]
            
You who wish t

           
o conquer pain

 
,
          
You must learn

              
 what makes me

 
 kind;
              
The crumbs of 

              
love that you 


offer me,
          
They’re the cr

            
umbs I’ve left

   
 behind.
             
Your pain is n

     
o credential h

ere,
              
It’s just the 

            
shadow, shadow

            
 of my wound.

[Verse 5]
            
I have begun t

           
o long for you

 
,
          
I who have no 


greed;
              
I have begun t

  
o ask for you,
        
I who have no 


need.
             
You say you’ve

       
 gone away fro

m me,
            
But I can feel

              
 you when you 

     
breathe.

[Verse 6]
            
Do not dress i

           
n those rags f

       
or me,
           
I know you are

#    
 not poor;
              
And don’t love

             
 me quite so f

/
iercely now
        
When you know 

              
that you are n

   
ot sure,
             
It is your tur

     
n, beloved,
            
And it is your

              
 flesh that I 

    
wear.

[Outro]