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    100 Songs

    Page 4
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      But still remains

      Upon the beach where hound dogs bay

      At ships with tattooed sails

      Heading for the Gates of Eden

      With a time-rusted compass blade

      Aladdin and his lamp

      Sits with Utopian hermit monks

      Sidesaddle on the Golden Calf

      And on their promises of paradise

      You will not hear a laugh

      All except inside the Gates of Eden

      Relationships of ownership

      They whisper in the wings

      To those condemned to act accordingly

      And wait for succeeding kings

      And I try to harmonize with songs

      The lonesome sparrow sings

      There are no kings inside the Gates of Eden

      The motorcycle black madonna

      Two-wheeled gypsy queen

      And her silver-studded phantom cause

      The gray flannel dwarf to scream

      As he weeps to wicked birds of prey

      Who pick up on his bread crumb sins

      And there are no sins inside the Gates of Eden

      The kingdoms of Experience

      In the precious wind they rot

      While paupers change possessions

      Each one wishing for what the other has got

      And the princess and the prince

      Discuss what’s real and what is not

      It doesn’t matter inside the Gates of Eden

      The foreign sun, it squints upon

      A bed that is never mine

      As friends and other strangers

      From their fates try to resign

      Leaving men wholly, totally free

      To do anything they wish to do but die

      And there are no trials inside the Gates of Eden

      At dawn my lover comes to me

      And tells me of her dreams

      With no attempts to shovel the glimpse

      Into the ditch of what each one means

      At times I think there are no words

      But these to tell what’s true

      And there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden

      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

      Make 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 they 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 forget

      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

      IT’S ALL OVER NOW, BABY BLUE

      You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last

      But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast

      Yonder stands your orphan with his gun

      Crying like a fire in the sun

      Look out the saints are comin’ through

      And it’s all over now, Baby Blue

      The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense

      Take what you have gathered from coincidence

      The empty-handed painter from your streets

      Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets

      This sky, too, is folding under you

      And it’s all over now, Baby Blue

      All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home


      All your reindeer armies, are all going home

      The lover who just walked out your door

      Has taken all his blankets from the floor

      The carpet, too, is moving under you

      And it’s all over now, Baby Blue

      Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you

      Forget the dead you’ve left, they will not follow you

      The vagabond who’s rapping at your door

      Is standing in the clothes that you once wore

      Strike another match, go start anew

      And it’s all over now, Baby Blue

      LIKE A ROLLING STONE

      Once upon a time you dressed so fine

      You 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 kiddin’ 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 having to be scrounging for your next meal

      How does it feel

      How does it feel

      To be without a home

      Like a complete unknown

      Like a rolling stone?

      You’ve gone to the finest school all right, Miss Lonely

      But you know you only used to get juiced in it

      And nobody has ever taught you how to live on the street

      And now you find out you’re gonna have to get used to it

      You said you’d 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 ask him do you want to make a deal?

      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?

      You never turned around to see the frowns on the jugglers and the clowns

      When they all come down and 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 the 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 be on your own

      With no direction home

      Like a complete unknown

      Like a rolling stone?

      Princess on the steeple and all the pretty people

      They’re drinkin’, thinkin’ that they got it made

      Exchanging all kinds of precious gifts and things

      But you’d better lift your diamond ring, you’d 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 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?

      TOMBSTONE BLUES

      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 fact’ry

      She ain’t got no shoes

      Daddy’s in the alley

      He’s lookin’ for the fuse

      I’m in the streets

      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

      Says, “My advice is to not let the boys in”

      Now the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside

      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 fact’ry

      She ain’t got no shoes

      Daddy’s in the alley

      He’s lookin’ for the fuse

      I’m in the streets

      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 fact’ry

      She ain’t got no shoes

      Daddy’s in the alley

      He’s lookin’ for the fuse

      I’m in the streets

      With the tombstone blues

      The king of the Philistines his soldiers to save

      Puts jawbones on their tombstones and flatters their graves

      Puts the pied pipers in prison and fattens the slaves

      Then sends them out to the jungle

      Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch he burns out their 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 fact’ry

      She ain’t got no shoes

      Daddy’s in the alley

      He’s lookin’ for the fuse

      I’m in the streets

      With the tombstone blues

      The geometry of innocence flesh on the bone

      Causes Galileo’s math book to get thrown

      At Delilah who sits worthlessly alone

      But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter

      Now 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 fact’ry

      She ain’t got no shoes

      Daddy’s in the alley

      He’s lookin’ for the fuse

      I’m in the streets

      With the tombstone blues

      Where Ma Rainey and Beethoven once unwrapped their bedroll

      Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole

      And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps for the soul

      To the old folks home and the college

      Now I wish I could write you 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 fact’ry

      She ain’t got no shoes

      Daddy’s in the alley

      He’s lookin’ for the fuse

      I’m in the streets

      With the tombstone blues

      BALLAD OF A THIN MAN

      You walk into the room

      With your pencil in your hand

      You see somebody naked

      And you say, “Who is that man?”

      You try so
    hard

      But you don’t understand

      Just what you’ll 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?”

      Because something is happening here

      But 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

      Because 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 just give a check

      To tax-deductible charity organizations

      You’ve 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

      Because something is happening here

      But 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”

      Because something is happening here

      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 he 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”

      Because something is happening here

      But you don’t know what it is

      Do you, Mister Jones?

      Well, you walk into the room

     


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