You can say the soul is gone    And the feeling is just not there    Not like it was so long ago.       On the empty page before you    You can fill in what you care    Try to make it new before you go.       Take the simple case of the serge    Who can't go back to war    'Cause the hippies tore down everything that he was fighting for.       Or the lovers on the blankets    That the city turned to whores    With memories of green kissed by the sun.       You can say the soul is gone    And close another door    Just be sure that yours is not the one.       And I'm singing for the stringman    Who lately lost his wife    There is no dearer friend of mine    That I know in this life.       On his shoulder rests a violin    For his head where chaos reigns    But his heart can't find a simple way    To live with all those things.       All those things    He's a stringman    A stringman    All those strings to pull