"It's the veils you tear off one by one," said Lorraine
"No, it's walls we put up," said that tired voice again
The chisel gets blunt and the sword gets profane
Nobody's blame
But you bind up the stone chips in the gauze that you've slain

You get so discouraged trying to cut thru it all
More veils beyond veils, always walls behind the walls
"Get back in there!" yells the golden glove
"When you gonna trust me," slams the friend
"Learn how to bend!"
"Don't you worry now," soothes the sweet lover with his medicine hands

Oh, I don't want to grow narrow and foolish in old age
And miss all that beauty, the wisdom and the grace
And you know you don't get that from high finance or fame
If you get stuck in that frame
Or the paint that you can put on your face and your name