The rain falls down on last year's man, that's a Jew's harp on the table, that's a crayon in his hand. And the corners of the blueprint are ruined since they rolled far past the stems of thumbtacks that still throw shadows on the wood. And the skylight is like skin for a drum I'll never mend and the rain falls down all amen on the works of last year's man. I met a lady, she was playing with her soldiers in the dark one by one she had to tell them Oh that her name was Joan of Arc. I was in that army, yes I stayed a little while; I want to thank you, Joan of Arc, for treating me so well. And though I wear a uniform I was not born to fight; all these wounded boys you lie beside, Goodnight, my friends, goodnight.
I came upon a wedding that old families had contrived; Bethlehem the bridegroom, Babylon the bride. Great Babylon was naked, oh she stood there trembling for me, Bethlehem and inflamed us both like the shy one at some orgy. And when we fell together all our flesh was like a veil that I had to draw aside to see the serpent eat its tail.
Some women wait for Jesus, and some women wait for Cain so I hang upon my altar and I voice my acts again. And I take the one who finds me back to where it all began When Jesus was the honeymoon and Cain was just the man. And we read from pleasant Bibles that are bound in blood and skin that the wilderness is gathering all its children back again.
The rain falls down on last year's man, an hour has gone by and I have not moved his hand. But everything will happen if I only gives the word; the lovers will rise up and the mountains touch the ground. But the skylight is like skin for a drum I'll never mend and the rain falls down all amen on the works of last year's man.