The Rhythm of the Saints

Soon our fortunes will be made, my darling And we leave this loathsome little town Silver bells jingling from your black lizard boots, my baby Silver foil to trim your wedding gown It's true the tools of love wear down Time passes A mind wanders It seems mindless, but it does Sometimes I see your face As if through reading glasses And your smile seems softer than it was Proof Some people gonna call you up Tell you something that you already know Proof Sane people go crazy on you Say “No man that was not The deal we made I got to go, I got to go” Faith Faith is an island in the setting sun But proof, yes Proof is the bottom line for everyone My face, my race Don't matter anymore My s*x, my cheques Accepted at the door Proof Some people gonna call you up Tell you something that you already know Proof Sane people go crazy on you Say “No man that was not The deal we made I got to, I got to go” Faith Faith is an island in the setting sun But proof, yes Proof is the bottom line for everyone Half moon hiding in the clouds, my darling And the sky is flecked with signs of hope Raise your weary wings against the rain, my baby Wash your tangled curls with gambler's soap Proof Some people gonna call you up Tell you something that you already know Proof Sane people go crazy on you Say “No man that was not The deal we made I got to, I got to, I got to” Faith Faith is an island in the setting sun But proof, yes Proof is the bottom line for everyone --- The Rhythm of the Saints - Paul Simon