I just don’t care
who you follow
the stuff that you say
and what you think
that you know
In the deepest despair
from way down below
through haunted streets
I’ve driven that manic
and heavy traffic
to a place where
even the light retreats
And I’ve known
the sweetest caress
of a gentle whisper
that roared like a tempest
through my very soul
Why the tears my dear friend?
Fear and trepidation
throughout the land
The future is coming down fast
Those good times
they just couldn’t last
A world of disorder hitting the fan
God said to King David,
“Sing me a song.”
King David said, “Lord,
I’ve got this face mask on!”
God said, “What!
You can just sit there
and self isolate
if you really want, Dave,
but the next time
Mother Nature sneezes
you’d better run!”
King David asked, “Where
d’you want this singing done?”
God said, “That clearway
out on Freeway Kingdom Come.”
Like a Rising Stone
~ un hommage
A time for life
to seek
to be found
To feel
and to be touched
To hear truth
How sweet the sound
To taste goodness
Goodness to be tasted
To love and to be loved
Without the Divine
the time of your life
. . . truly wasted
I beg your pardon!
That’s a conversation
that never happened
Like Dylan
at the crossroads
selling his soul to the devil
for a musical bargain
Advice for yet another
next “New Bob Dylan”,
if you wish to save
your immortal soul,
and your vocal chords,
from certain oblivion;
Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie
(edited) ~ by Bob Dylan
When yer head gets twisted
and yer mind grows numb
When you think you’re too old,
too young, too smart or too dumb
When yer laggin’ behind
an’ losin’ yer pace
In a slow-motion crawl
of life’s busy race
No matter what yer doing
if you start givin’ up
If the wine don’t come
to the top of yer cup
If the wind’s got you sideways
with one hand holdin’ on
And the other starts slipping
and the feeling is gone
And yer train engine fire
needs a new spark to catch it
And the wood’s easy findin’
but yer lazy to fetch it
And yer sidewalk starts curlin’
and the street gets too long
And you start walkin’ backwards
though you know its wrong
And lonesome comes up
as down goes the day
And tomorrow’s mornin’
seems so far away
