About Me
"I define nothing. Not beauty, not patriotism. I take each thing as it is, without prior rules about what it should be." - Bob Dylan
..
Bob Dylan (born Robert Allen Zimmerman, May 24, 1941) is an American singer-songwriter, author, musician, poet and, of late, disc jockey who has been a major figure in popular music for five decades. His most recent studio album, Modern Times, released on August 29, 2006, entered the U.S. album charts at #1, making him, at age 65, the oldest living person to top those charts. It was later named Album of the Year by Rolling Stone magazine.
"A poem is a naked person... Some people say that I am a poet."
Dylan performs with the guitar, keyboard and harmonica. Backed by a changing lineup of musicians, he has toured steadily since the late 1980s on what has been dubbed the "Never Ending Tour". He has also performed alongside other major artists, such as The Band, Tom Petty, Joan Baez, George Harrison, The Grateful Dead, Johnny Cash, Willie Nelson, Paul Simon, Eric Clapton, Patti Smith, Emmylou Harris, Bruce Springsteen, U2, The Rolling Stones, Joni Mitchell, Jack White, Merle Haggard, Neil Young, Van Morrison, Ringo Starr and Stevie Nicks. Although his accomplishments as performer and recording artist have been central to his career, his songwriting is generally regarded as his greatest contribution.
Over many years, Dylan has been recognized and honored for his songwriting, performing, and recording. His records have earned Grammy, Golden Globe, and Academy Awards, and he has been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame and Songwriters Hall of Fame. In 1999, Dylan was included in TIME Magazine's 100 most influential people of the 20th century, and 2004, he was ranked #2 in Rolling Stone magazine's list of "Greatest Artists of All Time", second only to The Beatles. In January 1990, Dylan was made a Commandeur des Arts et des Lettres by French Minister of Culture Jack Lang; in 2000, he was awarded the Polar Music Prize by the Royal Swedish Academy of Music; and in 2007, Dylan was awarded the Prince of Asturias Award in Arts. He has been nominated several times for the Nobel Prize in Literature.
"This land is your land and this land is my land, sure, but the world is run by those that never listen to music anyway."
Dylan & Joan Baez sing "Deportee" - 1976
Dylan & Johnny Cash sing "Girl From the North Country" - 1969
Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands With your mercury mouth in the missionary times / And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes / And your silver cross, and your voice like chimes/ Oh, who among them do they think could bury you? / With your pockets well protected at last / And your streetcar visions which you place on the grass/ And your flesh like silk, and your face like glass / Who among them do they think could carry you? / Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands / Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes / My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums / Should I leave them by your gate / Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait? / With your sheets like metal and your belt like lace / And your deck of cards missing the jack and the ace / And your basement clothes and your hollow face / Who among them can think he could outguess you? / With your silhouette when the sunlight dims / Into your eyes where the moonlight swims / And your match-book songs and your gypsy hymns / Who among them would try to impress you? / Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands / Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes / My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums / Should I leave them by your gate/ Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait? / The kings of Tyrus with their convict list / Are waiting in line for their geranium kiss / And you wouldn't know it would happen like this / But who among them really wants just to kiss you? / With your childhood flames on your midnight rug / And your Spanish manners and your mother's drugs / And your cowboy mouth and your curfew plugs / Who among them do you think could resist you? / Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands / Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes / My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums / Should I leave them by your gate,
Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait? / Oh, the farmers and the businessmen, they all did decide / To show you the dead angels that they used to hide / But why did they pick you to sympathize with their side? / Oh, how could they ever mistake you? / They wished you'd accepted the blame for the farm / But with the sea at your feet and the phony false alarm / And with the child of a hoodlum wrapped up in your arms / How could they ever, ever persuade you? / Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands/ Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes / My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums / Should I leave them by your gate / Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait? / With your sheet-metal memory of Cannery Row / And your magazine-husband who one day just had to go / And your gentleness now, which you just can't help but show / Who among them do you think would employ you? / Now you stand with your thief, you're on his parole/ With your holy medallion which your fingertips fold / And your saintlike face and your ghostlike soul / Oh, who among them do you think could destroy you? / Sad-eyed lady of the lowlands / Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes /My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums / Should I leave them by your gate, Or, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
It's Alright Ma (I'm Only Bleeding) Darkness at the break of noon / Shadows even the silver spoon / The handmade blade, the child's balloon / Eclipses both the sun and moon / To understand you know too soon/ There is no sense in trying / Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn / Suicide remarks are torn / From the fool's gold mouthpiece / The hollow horn plays wasted words / Proves to warn / That he not busy being born / Is busy dying / Temptation's page flies out the door / You follow, find yourself at war / Watch waterfalls of pity roar / You feel to moan but unlike before / You discover / That you'd just be / One more person crying / So don't fear if you hear / A foreign sound to your ear / It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing / As some warn victory, some downfall/ Private reasons great or small / Can be seen in the eyes of those that call / To make all that should be killed to crawl / While others say don't hate nothing at all / Except hatred / Disillusioned words like bullets bark / As human gods aim for their mark / Made everything from toy guns that spark / To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark / It's easy to see without looking too far / That not much / Is really sacred / While preachers preach of evil fates / Teachers teach that knowledge waits / Can lead to hundred-dollar plates / Goodness hides behind its gates / But even the president of the United States / Sometimes must have / To stand naked / An' though the rules of the road have been lodged / It's only people's games that you got to dodge / And it's alright, Ma, I can make it / Advertising signs that con you / Into thinking you're the one / That can do what's never been done / That can win what's never been won / Meantime life outside goes on / All around you / You lose yourself, you reappear / You suddenly find you got nothing to fear / Alone you stand with nobody near / When a trembling distant voice, unclear / Startles your sleeping ears to hear / That somebody thinks / They really found you / A question in your nerves is lit / Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy / Insure you not to quit / To keep it in your mind and not fergit / That it is not he or she or them or it / That you belong to / Although the masters make the rules / For the wise men and the fools / I got nothing, Ma, to live up to / For them that must obey authority / That they do not respect in any degree / Who despise their jobs, their destinies / Speak jealously of them that are free / Cultivate their flowers to be / Nothing more than something / They invest in / While some on principles baptized / To strict party platform ties / Social clubs in drag disguise / Outsiders they can freely criticize / Tell nothing except who to idolize / And then say God bless him / While one who sings with his tongue on fire / Gargles in the rat race choir / Bent out of shape from society's pliers / Cares not to come up any higher / But rather get you down in the hole / That he's in / But I mean no harm nor put fault / On anyone that lives in a vault / But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him / Old lady judges watch people in pairs / Limited in sex, they dare / To push fake morals, insult and stare / While money doesn't talk, it swears / Obscenity, who really cares / Propaganda, all is phony / While them that defend what they cannot see / With a killer's pride, security / It blows the minds most bitterly / For them that think death's honesty / Won't fall upon them naturally / Life sometimes / Must get lonely / My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards / False gods, I scuff / At pettiness which plays so rough / Walk upside-down inside handcuffs / Kick my legs to crash it off / Say okay, I have had enough / What else can you show me? / And if my thought-dreams could be seen / They'd probably put my head in a guillotine / But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.
I Dreamed I Saw St. Augustine I dreamed I saw St. Augustine / Alive as you or me / Tearing through these quarters / In the utmost misery / With a blanket underneath his arm / And a coat of solid gold / Searching for the very souls / Whom already have been sold / "Arise, arise," he cried so loud / In 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 / So go on your way accordingly / But 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.
Desolation Row They're selling postcards of the hanging / They're painting the passports brown / The beauty parlor is filled with sailors / The circus is in town / Here comes the blind commissioner / They've got him in a trance / One hand is tied to the tight-rope 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 seems so easy / "It takes one to know one," she smiles / And puts her hands in her back pockets / Bette Davis style / And in comes Romeo, he's moaning / "You Belong to Me I Believe" / And someone says," You're in the wrong place, my friend / You 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 fortunetelling 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 to the carnival tonight / On Desolation Row / Now Ophelia, she's 'neath the window / For her I feel so afraid / 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 / Into 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 / He looked so immaculately frightful / As he bummed a cigarette / Then he went off sniffing drainpipes / And reciting the alphabet / Now you would not think to look at him / But he was famous long ago / For playing the electric violin / On Desolation Row / Dr. Filth, he keeps his world / Inside of a leather cup / But all his sexless patients / They're 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 penny whistles / 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 / A perfect image of a priest / They're 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 Outa Here If You Don't Know
/ Casanova is just being punished for going / To Desolation Row" / Now 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 / And 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 door knob broke) / When you asked 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.
