I’ve been searching in sectors both private and dark
With the eye of a witness—silent and stark
Seen everything that goes on in the night
Things that are twisted and hide from the light
Things that live under the rock and the stone
Flesh like a fever on a platter of bone
Blacker than blackness and whiter than white
Things that live only on the edges of sight
So I pack my sack with a fistful of fire
There are cutthroats and thieves in this night of desire
Who steals this treasure must contend with its flame?
Where only the strange remain
Yeah, only the strange remain
Only the strange remain
Only the strange remain
Only the strange remain
Looking deep and then deeper into every face
Past beauty and wisdom, past gender and race
I see a lone hungry wolf in a shining blue flame
And only the strange remain
I’m dying of thirst with a drink in my hand
Praying for something that I don’t understand
One foot on the gravel, one foot in the sky
Too reckless to live and too careful to die
With death at the door?
Will I still look for answers?
Will I still beg for more?
Will I slip into silence or ride with the pain?
Where only the strange remain
Yea, yea, yea
Only the strange remain
Only the strange remain
Only the strange remain
Tell me friend, have you noticed of late?
How only the strange remain?
I’m speaking about the cream of the strange
Not the merely weird, out of sight or insane
No, only the strange remain
Only the strange remain
They keep on talking just to rattle their teeth
A light coat of surface and nothing beneath
They’re fishing for answers with love as the bait
Related to something that time doesn’t date
Soon as it’s spoken, it no longer applies
Words twist and stutter and deliver up sighs
If truth is impossible, so is the lie
There’s no in-between, you can’t swim, you can’t fly
At the uttermost link at the end of our chain
Only the strange remain
Only the strange remain
In the dark of silence the strange remain
Yea, only the strange remain
Only the strange remain
Only the strange remain
Only the strange remain
Words by Robert Hunter
Music by Mickey Hart
Studio recording: Mystery Box (1997), Mickey Hart.
First performance by The Dead: June 22, 2003, at the Tweeter Center, Great Woods, Mansfield, Massachusetts.