[ The Jimi Hendrix Experience ]

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I see fingers, hands and shades of faces
Reachin’ up and not quite touchin’ the promised land
I hear pleas and prayers and a desperate whisper sayin
Oh, Lord, please give us a helpin’ hand

Way down in the background
I can see frustrated Souls of cities burning
And all across the water, baby
I see weapons barkin’ out the sting of death

And up in the clouds I can imagine UFOs jumpin’ themselves
Laughin’ they sayin’
Those people so uptight
They sure know how to make a mess

Back in the saloon my tears mix and mildew with my drink
I can’t really tell my feet from the sawdust on the floor
But as far as I know, they may even try to wrap me up in cellophane and sell me
Brother sell me, and don’t worry about lookin at the score

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