Live, Philharmonic Hall, NYC - 31.oct.1964
Bringing It All Back Home session 3 - 15.jan.1965, take 1, album version
Free Trade Hall, Manchester UK - 7.may.1965
BBC TV Studios, London - 1.jun.1965
Of war an' peace the truth just twists, its curfew gull it glides
Upon four legged forest clouds, the cowboy angel rides
With his candle lit into the sun tho its glow is waxed in black
All except when 'neath the gates of Eden.
The lamp posts stands with folded arms, its iron claws attached
To curbs 'neath holes where babies wail, tho it shadows metal badge
All an' all can only fall with a crashin' but meaningless blow
No sound ever comes from the gates of Eden.
This savage soldier sticks his head in sand an' then complains
Unto the shoeless hunter who's gone deaf but still remains
Upon the beach where hounddogs bay at ships with tatooed sails
Headin' for the gates of Eden.
With a time rusted compass blade, Aladdin an' his lamp
Sits with utopian hermit monks, side saddle on the golden calf
An' on their promises of paradise, you will not hear a laugh
All except inside the gates of Eden.
Relationships of ownership, they whisper in the wings
To those condemned to act accordingly an' wait for succeeeding kings
An' i try to harmonize with songs the lonesome sparrow sings
There are no kings inside the gates of Eden.
The motorcycle black madonna, two-wheeled gypsy queen
An' her silver studded phantom cause the grey flannel dwarf to scream
As he weeps to wicked birds of prey who pick up on his bread crumb sins
An' there are no sins inside the gates of Eden.
The kingdoms of experience in the precious winds they rot
While paupers change possessions each one wishin' for what the other has got
An' the princess and the prince discuss what's real an' what is not
It doesn't matter inside the gates of Eden.
The foreign sun it squints upon a bed that is never mine
As friends an' other strangers from their fates try to resign
Leavin' men holy totally free to do anythin' they wish to do but die
An' there are no trials inside the gates of Eden.
At dawn my lover comes to me an' tells me of her dreams
With no attemps to shovel the glimpse into the ditch of what each one means
At times i think there are no words but these to tell what's true
An' there are no truths outside the gates of Eden.