NationStates Jolt Archive


Highway 61 Revisited

31-03-2004, 18:15
Once upon a time, you dressed so fine
Threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you?
People'd call, say beware, doll, you're bound to fall
You thought they were all kidding you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About havin' to be scrounging your next meal
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To be without a home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?
Ahh, you gone to the finest school, all right, Miss Lonely
But you know you only used to get juiced in it
Nobody's ever taught you how to live out on the street
And now you're gonna have to get used to it
You say you'll never compromise
With the mystery tramp, but now you realize
He's not selling any alibis
As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes
And say, do you want to make a deal?
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To be on your own?
With no direction home?
A complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?
Ahh, you never turned around to see the frowns
On the jugglers and the clowns when they all did tricks for you
You never understood that it ain't no good
You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you
You used to ride on a chrome horse with your diplomat
Who carried on his shoulder a Siamese cat
Ain't it hard when you discover that
He really wasn't where it's at
After he took from you everything he could steal?
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To have on your own?
With no direction home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?
Ahh, Princess on the steeple, and all the pretty people
They're all drinkin', thinkin' that they got it made
Exchangin' all precious gifts
But you better take your diamond ring, you better pawn it babe
You used to be so amused
At Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
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 got no secrets to conceal
How does it feel?
How does it feel?
To be on your own?
With no direction home?
Like a complete unknown?
Like a rolling stone?

The sweet pretty things are in bed now, of course
The city fathers, they're trying to endorse
The reincarnation of Paul Revere's horse
But the town has no need to be nervous
The ghost of Belle Starr, she hands down her wits
To Jezebel the Nun, she violently knits
A bald wig for Jack the Ripper, who sits
At the head of the Chamber of Commerce
Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for food
I am in the kitchen with the Tombstone Blues
The hysterical bride in the penny arcade
Screaming, she moans, I've just been made
Then sends out for the doctor who pulls down the shade
And says, my advice is to not let the boys in
Now the medicine man comes, and he shuffles and sighs
He walks with a swagger, and he says to the bride
Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride
You will not die, it's not poison
Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for food
I am in the kitchen with the Tombstone Blues
Well, John the Baptist, after torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero, the Commander in Chief
Saying, Tell me, great hero, but please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?
The Commander in Chief answers him while chasing a fly
Saying, Death to all those who would whimper and cry
And dropping a barbell, he points to the sky
Saying, the sun's not yellow, it's chicken
Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for food
I am in the kitchen with the Tombstone Blues
The king of the Philistines, his soldiers to save
Puts jawbones on their tombstones and flatters the graves
But the Pied Piper's in prison and fattens the slaves
And sends them out to the jungle
Gypsy Davie, with a blowtorch, he burns out the camps
With his faithful slave Pedro behind him, he tramps
With a fantastic collection of stamps
To win friends and influence his uncle
Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for food
I am in trouble with the Tombstone Blues
The geometry of innocent flesh on the bone
Causes Galileo's math book to get thrown
At Delilah, who's sitting worthlessly alone
But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter
I wish I could give Brother Bill his great thrill
I would set him in chains at the top of the hill
Then send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille
He could die happily ever after
Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for food
I am in the kitchen with the Tombstone Blues
Where Ma Rainey and Beethoven once unwrapped a bedroll
Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole
And the national bank, at a profit, sells roadmaps for the soul
To the old folks' home and the college
I wish I could write a melody so plain
That could hold you, dear lady, from going insane
That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge
Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes
Daddy's in the alley, he's lookin' for food
I am in the kitchen with the Tombstone Blues

Well, I ride on a mailtrain, baby
Can't buy a thrill
Well, I been up all night
Leaning on the windowsill
Well, if I die on top of the hill
And if I don't make it, you know my baby will
Don't the moon look good, mama
Shining through the trees?
Don't the brakeman look good, mama
Draggin' down the Double E?
Don't the sun look good goin' down over the sea?
But don't my gal look fine when she's comin' after me?
Well, the wintertime is coming
The windows are filled with frost
I went to tell everybody, but I
Could not get across
Well, I wanna be your lover, baby, I don't wanna be your boss
Don't say I never warned you when your train gets lost

I got this graveyard woman
You know, she keeps my kids
But my soulful mama, you know
She keeps me hid
She's a junkyard angel, and she
She always gives me bread
Well, if I go down dyin', you know
She bound to put a blanket on my bed
Well, when the pipeline gets broken
And I lost on the river bridge
I'm all cracked up on the highway, and I'm
Near the water's edge
Here she comes down the freeway
Ready to sew me up with thread
Well, if I fall down dyin', you know
She bound to put a blanket on my bed
Well, she don't make me nervous
She don't talk too much
She walks like Bo Diddley
And she don't need no crutch
She keeps this four-ten
All loaded with lead
Well, if I fall down dyin', you know
She bound to put a blanket on my bed
Well, you know, I need a steam shovel, Mama
To keep away the dead
I need a dump truck, baby
To unload my head
She brings me everything and more
And just like I said
Well, if I fall down dyin', you know
She bound to put a blanket on my bed

You walk into the room
With your pencil your hand
You see somebody naked there, and you
You say, who is this man?
You try so hard
But you don't understand
Just what you will say when you get home
Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You raise up your head
And you ask, is this where it is?
And somebody points to you
And says, it's his
And you say, what's mine?
And somebody else says, where what is?
And you say, oh my god
Am I here all alone?
But something is happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, how does it feel to
Be such a freak?
And you say, Impossible
As he hands you a bone
And something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway, they already expect you
To all give a check to tax-deductible charity organizations
Ahh, you been with the professors, and
They've all liked your looks
With great lawyers, you have discussed
Lepers and crooks
You've been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well read
It's well known
But something is happening here
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Well, the sword swallower
He comes up to you and then he kneels
He crosses himself, and then he
Clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan
And you know something is happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Now, you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word, Now
And you say, for what reason?
And see says, how?
And you say, what does this mean?
And he screams, Back! You're a cow!
Give me some milk
Or else go home
And you know something's happening
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?
Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel, and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your knows on the ground
There oughta be a law
Against you comin' around
You should be made to wear
Earphones
'Cause something is happening
And you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

When your mother sends back all your invitations
And your father, to your sister, he explains
That you're tired of yourself and all of your creations
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now, when all of the flower ladies want back what they have lent you
And the smell of their roses does not remain
And all of your children start to resent you
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now, when all the clowns that you have commissioned
Have died in battle or in vain
And you are sick of all this repetition
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Whoa, when all of your advisors heave their plastic
At your feet, to convince you of your pain
Trying to prove that your conclusions should be more drastic
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Now, when all of the bandits that you turn your other cheek to
All lay down their bandanas and complain
And you want somebody you don't have to speak to
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?
Won't you come see me, Queen Jane?

Well, God said to Abraham, kill me a son
Abe say, man, you must be puttin' me on
God say no
Abe say what?
God say, you can do what you want, Abe
But the next time you see me comin', you better run
Abe say, where you want this killing done?
God said, out on Highway 61
Well, Georgia Sam, he had a bloody nose
Welfare department, they wouldn't give him no clothes
He asked Poor Howard, where can I go
Howard said, there's only one place I know
Sam said, tell me, quick, man
I got to run
Oh, Howard just pointed with his gun
And said, that way, down Highway 61
Well, Mack the Finger said to Louie the King
I got forty red, white, and blue shoestrings
And a thousand telephones that don't ring
Do you know where I can get rid of these things?
And Louie the King said,
Let me think for a minute, son
Then he said, yes, I think it can be easily done
Just take everything down to Highway 61
Now the fifth daughter on the twelfth night
Told the first father that things weren't right
My complexion, she said, is much too white
He said, come here and step into the light
He says, mm, you're right
Let me tell the second mother this has been done
But the second mother was with the seventh son
And they were both out on Highway 61
Now the rovin' gambler, he was very bored
Tryin' to create the next world war
He found a promoter who fell off the floor
He said, I never engaged in this kind of thing before
But yes, I think it can be very easily done
We'll just put some bleachers out in the sun
And have it on Highway 61

When you're lost in the rain in Juarez
And it's Eastertime, too
And your gravity fails
And negativity don't pull you through
Don't put on any airs when you're down on Rue Morgue Avenue
They got some hungry women there, and they really make a mess out of you
Now, if you see Saint Annie
Please tell her thanks a lot
I cannot move
My fingers are all in a knot
I don't have the strength to get up and take another shot
And my best friend, my doctor, won't even say what it is I got
Sweet Melinda
The peasants call her the Goddess of Gloom
She speaks good English
And she invites you up into her room
And you're so kind, and careful not to go to her too soon
And she takes your voice and leaves you howling at the moon
Up on Housing Project Hill
It's either fortune or fame
You must pick one or the other
Though neither of them are to be what they claim
If you're looking to get silly, you better go back to from where you came
Because the cops don't need you, and man, they expect the same
Now, all the authorities
They just stand around and boast
How they blackmailed the sergeant-at-arms
Into leaving his post
And picking up Angel, who just arrived here from the coast
Who looked so fine at first, but left looking just like a ghost
I started out on Burgundy
But soon hit the harder stuff
Everybody said they'd stand behind me
When the game got rough
But the joke was on me, there was nobody even there to bluff
I'm going back to New York City, I do believe I've had enough

They're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown
The beauty parlor is full of sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tightrope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad, they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight from
Desolation Row
Cinderella, she seemed so easy
It takes one to know one, she smiles
And puts her hands in her back pocket
Bette Davis Style
And in comes and Romeo, he's moaning
You belong to me, I believe
And someone says, you're in the wrong place, my friend
You'd better leave
And the only sound that's left
After the ambulances go
Is Cinderella sweeping up on
Desolation Row
Now, the moon is almost hidden
The stars are beginning to hide
The fortune-telling lady
Has even taken all her things inside
All except for Cain and Abel
And the Hunchback of Notre Dame
Everybody is making love
Or else expecting rain
And the Good Samaritan, he's dressing
He's getting ready for the show
He's going the carnival tonight on
Desolation Row
Ophelia, she's 'neath the window
For her I feel so afrain
On her twenty-second birthday
She already is an old maid
To her, death is quite romantic
She wears an iron vest
Her profession's her religion
Her sin is her lifelessness
And though her eyes are fixed upon
Noah's great rainbow
She spends her time peeking in to
Desolation Row
Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood
With his memories in a trunk
Passed this way an hour ago
With his friend, a jealous monk
Now he looked so immaculately frightful
As he bummed a cigarette
And he went off sniffing drainpipes
And reciting the alphabet
You would not think to look at him
But he was famous long ago
For playing the electric violin on
Desolation Row
Doctor Filth, he keeps his world
Inside of a leather cup
But all his sexless patients
They are trying to blow it up
Now his nurse, some local loser
She's in charge of the cyanide hole
And she also keeps the cards that read
Have mercy on his soul
They all play on the penny whistle
You can hear them blow
If you lean your head out far enough from
Desolation Row
Across the street, they've nailed the curtains
They're getting ready for the feast
The Phantom of the Opera
In a perfect image of a priest
They are spoonfeeding Casanova
To get him to feel more assured
Then they'll kill him with self-confidence
After poisoning him with words
And the Phantom's shouting to skinny girls
Get out of here if you don't know
Casanova is just being punished for going to
Desolation Row
At midnight, all the agents
And the superhuman crew
Come out and round up everyone
That knows more than they do
Then they bring them to the factory
Where the heart-attack machine
Is strapped across their shoulders
And then the kerosene
Is brought down from the castles
By insurance men who go
Check to see that nobody is escaping to
Desolation Row
Praise be to Nero's Neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
Everybody's shouting
Which side are you on?
And Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot
Fighting in the captain's tower
While Calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much about
Desolation Row
Yes, I received your letter yesterday
About the time the doorknob broke
When you asked me how I was doing
Was that some kind of joke?
All these people that you mention
Yes, I know them, they're quite lame
I had to rearrange their faces
And give them all another name
Right now I can't read too good
Don't send me no more letters, no
Not unless you mail them from
Desolation Row
Sydia
31-03-2004, 18:17
Some more good 'uns are of course Blonde on Blonde, Blood on the Tracks and Desire.

Good stuff.
The Great Leveller
31-03-2004, 18:18
*flashbacks*
aaaa :shock:
31-03-2004, 18:21
Yeah...my next Dylan post will probably be John Wesley Harding, but that's because that's the next one in the stack.
Kryozerkia
31-03-2004, 18:23
Could you put in song titles and separate the chorus and verses? ^_^
31-03-2004, 18:28
No.
Bird dog
31-03-2004, 18:48
I got the bootleg series vol 1-3 (rare and unreleased) 1961-1991.