All Along the Watchtower - T.S.O.L.

There must be some kind of way out of here

Said the joker to the thief

There’s too much confusion

I can’t get no relief

Businessmen, they drink my wine

Plowmen dig my earth

None of them along the line

Know what any of it is worth

No reason to get excited

The thief, he kindly spoke

There are many here among us

Who feel that life is nothing but a joke

But you and I, we’ve been through that

And this is not our fate

So let us not talk falsely now

For the hour’s getting late

All along the watchtower

Princes kept the view

While all the women came and went

And barefoot servants too

Outside in the distance

A wildcat did growl

Two riders were approaching

And the wind began to howl

Two riders were approaching

Two riders were approaching

Two riders were approaching

Two riders were approaching