Bob Dylan

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C
I dreamed I saw St. Augustine,
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Alive as you or me,
Tearing through these quarters
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In the utmost misery,
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With a blanket underneath his arm
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And a coat of solid gold,
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Searching for the very souls
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Whom already have been sold.

"Arise, arise," he cried so loud,
With a voice without restraint,
"Come out, ye gifted kings and queens
And hear my sad complaint.
No martyr is among ye now
Whom you can call your own,
But go on your way accordingly
And know you're not alone."

I dreamed I saw St. Augustine,
Alive with fiery breath,
And I dreamed I was amongst the ones
That put him out to death.
Oh, I awoke in anger,
So alone and terrified,
I put my fingers against the glass
And bowed my head and cried.