Bob Dylan
American folk and rock singer-songwriter, born in Duluth, Minnesota.
they already expect you to just give a check to tax-deductible charity organization.
She's got everything she needs, she's an artist, she don't look back.
Inside the museums, infinity goes up on trial.
Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while
But, Mona Lisa must have had the highway blues
you can tell by the way she smiles
You're an idiot, babe. It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe.
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me.
In the jingle-jangle morning, I'll come following you.
But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel.
I don't call myself a poet, because I don't like the word.
I don't believe you! You're a liar! ... Play it fucking loud!
I'm sick of love but I'm in the thick of it.
The first two lines, which rhymed 'kiddin' you' and 'didn't you,' just about knocked me out, and later on, when I got to the jugglers and the chrome horse and the princess on the steeple, it all just about got to be too much.
You sound like a hillbilly; We want folk singers here.
Well, God is in His heaven
And we all want what's his
But power and greed and corruptible seed
Seem to be all that there is
I'm gazing out the window
Of the St. James Hotel
And I know no one can sing the blues
Like Blind Willie McTell
And you say, Oh my God, am I here all alone?
Somebody's got to cry some tears, I guess it must be up to me.
Bob Dylan took a lot of air out of the room when it came to songwriters. Everybody had a tough row to hoe distinguishing themselves once Bob invented our job.
Someone handed me Mexico City Blues in St. Paul [Minnesota] in 1959 and it blew my mind. It was the first poetry that spoke my own language.
If your memory serves you well, I was gonna confiscate your lace and wrap it up in a sailor's knot and hide it in your case.
And if I knew for sure that it was yours, it was oh so hard to tell, and you know that we shall meet again, if your memory serves you well.
Go to him now, he calls you, you can't refuse.
When you ain't got nothing, you got nothing to lose.
You're invisible now. You've got no secrets to conceal.
I had ambitions to set out and find, like an odyssey or going home somewhere… set out to find… this home that I’d left a while back and couldn’t remember exactly where it was, but I was on my way there. And encountering what I encountered on the way was how I envisioned it all. I didn’t really have any ambition at all. I was born very far from where I’m supposed to be, and so, I’m on my way home, you know?