Tuesday’s Dead

    If I make a mark in time,
    I can’t say the mark is mine
    I’m only the underline of the word
    Yes, I’m like him; just like you,
    I can’t tell you what to do
    Like everybody else I’m searching through
    What I’ve heard
    Whoa, where do you go
    When you don’t want no one to know?
    Who told tomorrow Tuesday’s dead?

    Oh preacher won’t you paint my dream,
    Won’t you show me where you’ve been
    Show me what I haven’t seen
    To ease my mind
    Cause I will learn to understand,
    if I have a helping hand
    I wouldn’t make another demand
    All my life
    Whoa, where do you go
    When you don’t want no one to know?

    Now, what’s my sex, what’s my name?
    All in all it’s all the same,
    Everybody plays a different game
    That is all
    Now, man may live, man may die
    Searching for the question, “Why?”
    But if he tries to rule the sky, he must fall
    Whoa, where do you go
    When you don’t want no one to know?

    Now every second on the nose,
    The humdrum of the city grows
    Reaching out beyond the throes
    Of our time
    But we must try to shake it down
    Do our best to break the ground
    Try to turn the world around
    One more time
    Yes, we must try to shake it down
    do our best to break the ground
    Try to turn the world around
    One more time
    Whoa, where do you go
    When you don’t want no one to know?