Bob Dylan

Momma, put my guns in the ground,

I can't shoot them anymore,

That long black cloud is coming down,

Feel I'm knockin' on heaven's door

«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.»