Tears of Rage

by Bob Dylan

We carried you in our arms
On Independence Day
And now you'd throw us all aside
And put us all away
Oh, what dear daughter 'neath the sun
Could treat a father so?
To wait upon him hand and foot
And always tell him, 'No'

Tears of rage, tears of grief
Why must I always be the thief?
Come to me now
You know we're so low
And life is brief

It was all very painless
When you ran out to receive
All that false instruction
Which we never could believe
And now the heart is filled with gold
As if it was a purse
But, oh, what kind of love is this
Which goes from bad to worse?

We pointed you the way to go
And scratched your name in sand
Though you just thought it was nothing more
Than a place for you to stand
I want you to know that while we watched
You discovered no one would be true
And I myself was among
The ones who thought
It was just a childish thing to do