The hour is getting late

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 up and down the line
Have any idea what it’s worth

No reason to get excited
The thief he kindly spoke
There are many here among us
Who feel that life is 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
The hour is getting late

Bob Dylan, All Along the Watchtower

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