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Ballad of Easy Rider

de Barry Gibb

An echo that seemed to come from every direction,
The echo of someone's voice,
Down filthy streets and cobblestones,
The echo had no choice,
In darkness I have never known,
I raised my stick forth true,
And like a blind man, tried to find!
Each corner that I knew.

Someone picked him he is the victim,
No one can help me now,
For who can mend a broken heart,
When there's no one else around, to show me how.

Born and raised in the place I stood,
I gave my mind to my feet,
Then darkness fell on darkness, and yet more!
I could not find that street,
The coming of my panic, and the overcome of fear,
Paralysed my senses,
Would the echo find me here.

Someone picked him he is the victim,
No one can help me now,
For who can mend a broken heart,
When there's no one else around, to show me how.

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