When my neurones conspire
To distract my tought
Away from divorce
And competitive sports
Back to the place
Where all rivers run to the sea
Then I
I shall be free
I shall be free
On a seesaw
In a strange land
The jackdaw sat
On the Cardinals hand
And the fiddlers played
And the planners planned
What would be
On a back seat
In a courtroom
Molly Malone sat with
Leopold Bloom
‘Til the police came down
With a new broom
And swept them clean

Like Geronimo
Like Quinn the Eskimo
Like the Blackfoot
And like the Arapaho
Like Crazy Horse
I’ll be the last one
To lay down my gun

And when the bell sounds for that final round
I’ll be there
On the open road
In a bar room
A pickup band plays a new tune
When the coloured girls sings
I feel my heart bloom

When a new song
Strikes the right note
When a clearing sky
Saves and old boat
When an insight
Strikes the mote
From mine own eye

Like Geronimo
Like Quinn the Eskimo
Like the Blackfoot
And like the Arapaho
Like Crazy Horse
I’ll be the last one
To lay down my gun

Just out of sight
Beyond the next range
I feel the heat
Of a flickering flame

On an African plain
By a thorn tree
My old friend Philippe
Is waiting for me
Que ce passe ce passe
Whatever will be
Will be
When a friend dies
And the tears rise
From that deep well
That never runs dry
And the women break their bracelets
And the men take their whisky outside

In a petit theatre
On the rue St Denis
The red velvet curtain
Draws back to reveal
The place where the dark side
Meets the angel and me
The angel in me

When my synapses pause
In their quest for applause
When my ego lets go
Of my end of the bone
To focus instead
On the love that is precious to me
Then
I shall be free
I shall be free