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My Back Pages - Expanded version

July Article - additional lyrics

July 1, 2007

MY BACK PAGES (Written by Bob Dylan)

Crimson flames tied through my ears Rollin' high and mighty traps Pounced with fire on flaming roads Using ideas as my maps "We'll meet on edges, soon," said I Proud 'neath heated brow. Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.

Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth "Rip down all hate," I screamed Lies that life is black and white Spoke from my skull. I dreamed Romantic facts of musketeers Foundationed deep, somehow. Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.

Girls' faces formed the forward path From phony jealousy To memorizing politics Of ancient history Flung down by corpse evangelists Unthought of, though, somehow. Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.

A self-ordained professor's tongue Too serious to fool Spouted out that liberty Is just equality in school "Equality," I spoke the word As if a wedding vow. Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.

In a soldier's stance, I aimed my hand At the mongrel dogs who teach Fearing not that I'd become my enemy In the instant that I preach My pathway led by confusion boats Mutiny from stern to bow. Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now. Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats Too noble to neglect Deceived me into thinking I had something to protect Good and bad, I define these terms Quite clear, no doubt, somehow. Ah, but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.

TALKIN´ JOHN BIRCH PARANOID BLUES (Written by Bob Dylan)

Well, I was feelin' sad and feelin' blue, I didn't know what in the world I was gonna do, Them Communists they wus comin' around, They wus in the air, They wus on the ground. They wouldn't gimme no peace. . .

So I run down most hurriedly And joined up with the John Birch Society, I got me a secret membership card And started off a-walkin' down the road. Yee-hoo, I'm a real John Bircher now! Look out you Commies!

Now we all agree with Hitlers' views, Although he killed six million Jews. It don't matter too much that he was a Fascist, At least you can't say he was a Communist! That's to say like if you got a cold you take a shot of malaria.

Well, I wus lookin' everywhere for them gol-darned Reds. I got up in the mornin' 'n' looked under my bed, Looked in the sink, behind the door, Looked in the glove compartment of my car. Couldn't find 'em . . .

I wus lookin' high an' low for them Reds everywhere, I wus lookin' in the sink an' underneath the chair. I looked way up my chimney hole, I even looked deep inside my toilet bowl. They got away . . .

Well, I wus sittin' home alone an' started to sweat, Figured they wus in my T.V. set. Peeked behind the picture frame, Got a shock from my feet, hittin' right up in the brain. Them Reds caused it! I know they did . . . them hard-core ones.

Well, I quit my job so I could work alone, Then I changed my name to Sherlock Holmes. Followed some clues from my detective bag And discovered they wus red stripes on the American flag!That ol' Betty Ross . . .

Well, I investigated all the books in the library, Ninety percent of 'em gotta be burned away. I investigated all the people that I knowed, Ninety-eight percent of them gotta go. The other two percent are fellow Birchers . . . just like me.

Now Eisenhower, he's a Russian spy, Lincoln, Jefferson and that Roosevelt guy. To my knowledge there's just one man That's really a true American: George Lincoln Rockwell. I know for a fact he hates Commies cus he picketed the movie Exodus.

Well, I fin'ly started thinkin' straight When I run outa things to investigate. Couldn't imagine doin' anything else, So now I'm sittin' home investigatin' myself! Hope I don't find out anything . . . hmm, great God!

SONG TO WOODY (Written by Bob Dylan)

I'm out here a thousand miles from my home, Walkin' a road other men have gone down. I'm seein' your world of people and things, Your paupers and peasants and princes and kings.

Hey, hey Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song 'Bout a funny ol' world that's a-comin' along. Seems sick an' it's hungry, it's tired an' it's torn, It looks like it's a-dyin' an' it's hardly been born.

Hey, Woody Guthrie, but I know that you know All the things that I'm a-sayin' an' a-many times more. I'm a-singin' you the song, but I can't sing enough, 'Cause there's not many men that done the things that you've done.

Here's to Cisco an' Sonny an' Leadbelly too, An' to all the good people that traveled with you. Here's to the hearts and the hands of the men That come with the dust and are gone with the wind.

I'm a-leaving' tomorrow, but I could leave today, Somewhere down the road someday. The very last thing that I'd want to do Is to say I've been hittin' some hard travelin' too.

BLOWIN´ IN THE WIND (Written by Bob Dylan)

How many roads must a man walk down Before you call him a man? Yes, 'n' how many seas must a white dove sail Before she sleeps in the sand? Yes, 'n' how many times must the cannon balls fly Before they're forever banned? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many times must a man look up Before he can see the sky? Yes, 'n' how many ears must one man have Before he can hear people cry? Yes, 'n' how many deaths will it take till he knows That too many people have died? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind.

How many years can a mountain exist Before it's washed to the sea? Yes, 'n' how many years can some people exist Before they're allowed to be free? Yes, 'n' how many times can a man turn his head, Pretending he just doesn't see? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind.

MASTERS OF WAR (Written by Bob Dylan)

Come you masters of war You that build all the guns You that build the death planes You that build the big bombs You that hide behind walls You that hide behind desks I just want you to know I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin' But build to destroy You play with my world Like it's your little toy You put a gun in my hand And you hide from my eyes And you turn and run farther When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old You lie and deceive A world war can be won You want me to believe But I see through your eyes And I see through your brain Like I see through the water That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers For the others to fire Then you set back and watch When the death count gets higher You hide in your mansion As young people's blood Flows out of their bodies And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear That can ever be hurled Fear to bring children Into the world For threatening my baby Unborn and unnamed You ain't worth the bloodThat runs in your veins

How much do I know To talk out of turn You might say that I'm young You might say I'm unlearned But there's one thing I know Though I'm younger than you Even Jesus would never Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question Is your money that good Will it buy you forgiveness Do you think that it could I think you will find When your death takes its toll All the money you made Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die And your death'll come soon I will follow your casket In the pale afternoon And I'll watch while you're lowered Down to your deathbed And I'll stand o'er your grave 'Til I'm sure that you're dead

A HARD RAIN´S A´GONNA FALL (Written by Bob Dylan)

Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son? Oh, where have you been, my darling young one? I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains, I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways, I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests, I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans, I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard, And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard, And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son? Oh, what did you see, my darling young one? I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it, I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin', I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin', I saw a white ladder all covered with water, I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken, I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children, And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son? And what did you hear, my darling young one? I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin', Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world, Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin', Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin', Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin', Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter, Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley, And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son? Who did you meet, my darling young one? I met a young child beside a dead pony, I met a white man who walked a black dog, I met a young woman whose body was burning, I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow, I met one man who was wounded in love, I met another man who was wounded with hatred, And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son? Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one? I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin', I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest, Where the people are many and their hands are all empty, Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters, Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison, Where the executioner's face is always well hidden, Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten, Where black is the color, where none is the number, And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it, And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it, Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin', But I'll know my song well before I start singin', And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

TALKIN´ WORLD WAR III BLUES (Written by Bob Dylan)

Some time ago a crazy dream came to me, I dreamt I was walkin' into World War Three, I went to the doctor the very next day To see what kinda words he could say. He said it was a bad dream. I wouldn't worry 'bout it none, though, They were my own dreams and they're only in my head.

I said, "Hold it, Doc, a World War passed through my brain." He said, "Nurse, get your pad, this boy's insane," He grabbed my arm, I said "Ouch!" As I landed on the psychiatric couch, He said, "Tell me about it."

Well, the whole thing started at 3 o'clock fast, It was all over by quarter past. I was down in the sewer with some little lover When I peeked out from a manhole cover Wondering who turned the lights on.

Well, I got up and walked around And up and down the lonesome town. I stood a-wondering which way to go, I lit a cigarette on a parking meter And walked on down the road. It was a normal day.

Well, I rung the fallout shelter bell And I leaned my head and I gave a yell, "Give me a string bean, I'm a hungry man." A shotgun fired and away I ran. I don't blame them too much though, I know I look funny.

Down at the corner by a hot-dog stand I seen a man, I said, "Howdy friend, I guess there's just us two." He screamed a bit and away he flew. Thought I was a Communist.

Well, I spied a girl and before she could leave, "Let's go and play Adam and Eve." I took her by the hand and my heart it was thumpin'When she said, "Hey man, you crazy or sumpin', You see what happened last time they started."

Well, I seen a Cadillac window uptown And there was nobody aroun', I got into the driver's seat And I drove 42nd Street In my Cadillac. Good car to drive after a war.

Well, I remember seein' some ad, So I turned on my Conelrad. But I didn't pay my Con Ed bill, So the radio didn't work so well. Turned on my player- It was Rock-A-Day, Johnny singin', "Tell Your Ma, Tell Your Pa, Our Loves Are Gonna Grow Ooh-wah, Ooh-wah."

I was feelin' kinda lonesome and blue, I needed somebody to talk to. So I called up the operator of time Just to hear a voice of some kind. "When you hear the beep It will be three o'clock," She said that for over an hour And I hung it up.

Well, the doctor interrupted me just about then, Sayin, "Hey I've been havin' the same old dreams, But mine was a little different you see. I dreamt that the only person left after the war was me. I didn't see you around."

Well, now time passed and now it seems Everybody's having them dreams. Everybody sees themselves walkin' around with no one else. Half of the people can be part right all of the time, Some of the people can be all right part of the time. But all the people can't be all right all the time I think Abraham Lincoln said that. "I'll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours," I said that.

THE TIMES THEY ARE A´CHANGIN´ (Written by Bob Dylan)

Come gather 'round people Wherever you roam And admit that the waters Around you have grown And accept it that soon You'll be drenched to the bone. If your time to you Is worth savin' Then you better start swimmin' Or you'll sink like a stone For the times they are a-changin'.

Come writers and critics Who prophesize with your pen And keep your eyes wide The chance won't come again And don't speak too soon For the wheel's still in spin And there's no tellin' who That it's namin'. For the loser now Will be later to win For the times they are a-changin'.

Come senators, congressmen Please heed the call Don't stand in the doorway Don't block up the hall For he that gets hurt Will be he who has stalled There's a battle outside And it is ragin'. It'll soon shake your windows And rattle your walls For the times they are a-changin'.

Come mothers and fathers Throughout the land And don't criticize What you can't understand Your sons and your daughters Are beyond your command Your old road isRapidly agin'. Please get out of the new one If you can't lend your hand For the times they are a-changin'.

The line it is drawn The curse it is cast The slow one now Will later be fast As the present now Will later be past The order is Rapidly fadin'. And the first one now Will later be last For the times they are a-changin'.

ONLY A PAWN IN THEIR GAME (Written by Bob Dylan)

A bullet from the back of a bush took Medgar Evers' blood. A finger fired the trigger to his name. A handle hid out in the dark A hand set the spark Two eyes took the aim Behind a man's brain But he can't be blamed He's only a pawn in their game.

A South politician preaches to the poor white man, "You got more than the blacks, don't complain. You're better than them, you been born with white skin," they explain. And the Negro's name Is used it is plain For the politician's gain As he rises to fame And the poor white remains On the caboose of the train But it ain't him to blame He's only a pawn in their game.

The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid, And the marshals and cops get the same, But the poor white man's used in the hands of them all like a tool. He's taught in his school From the start by the rule That the laws are with him To protect his white skin To keep up his hate So he never thinks straight 'Bout the shape that he's in But it ain't him to blame He's only a pawn in their game.

From the poverty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks, And the hoof beats pound in his brain. And he's taught how to walk in a pack Shoot in the back With his fist in a clinch To hang and to lynch To hide 'neath the hood To kill with no pain Like a dog on a chainHe ain't got no name But it ain't him to blame He's only a pawn in their game.

Today, Medgar Evers was buried from the bullet he caught. They lowered him down as a king. But when the shadowy sun sets on the one That fired the gun He'll see by his grave On the stone that remains Carved next to his name His epitaph plain: Only a pawn in their game.

I SHALL BE FREE NO. 10 (Written by Bob Dylan)

I'm just average, common too I'm just like him, the same as you I'm everybody's brother and son I ain't different from anyone It ain't no use a-talking to me It's just the same as talking to you.

I was shadow-boxing earlier in the day I figured I was ready for Cassius Clay I said "Fee, fie, fo, fum, Cassius Clay, here I come 26, 27, 28, 29, I'm gonna make your face look just like mine Five, four, three, two, one, Cassius Clay you'd better run 99, 100, 101, 102, your ma won't even recognize you 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, gonna knock him clean right out of his spleen."

Well, I don't know, but I've been told The streets in heaven are lined with gold I ask you how things could get much worse If the Russians happen to get up there first. Wowee! Pretty scary!

Now, I'm liberal, but to a degree I want ev'rybody to be free But if you think that I'll let Barry Goldwater Move in next door and marry my daughter You must think I'm crazy! I wouldn't let him do it for all the farms in Cuba.

Well, I set my monkey on the log And ordered him to do the Dog He wagged his tail and shook his head And he went and did the Cat instead He's a weird monkey, very funky.

I sat with my high-heeled sneakers on Waiting to play tennis in the noonday sun I had my white shorts rolled up past my waist And my wig-hat was falling in my face But they wouldn't let me on the tennis court.

I gotta woman, she's so mean She sticks my boots in the washing machine Sticks me with buckshot when I'm nudePuts bubblegum in my food She's funny, wants my money, calls me "honey."

Now I gotta friend who spends his life Stabbing my picture with a bowie-knife Dreams of strangling me with a scarf When my name comes up he pretends to barf. I've got a million friends!

Now they asked me to read a poem At the sorority sister's home I got knocked down and my head was swimmin' I wound up with the Dean of Women Yippee! I'm a poet, and I know it. Hope I don't blow it.

I'm gonna grow my hair down to my feet so strange So I look like a walking mountain range And I'm gonna ride into Omaha on a horse Out to the country club and the golf course. Carry the New York Times, shoot a few holes, blow their minds.

Now you're probably wondering by now Just what this song is all about What's probably got you baffled more Is what this thing here is for. It's nothing It's something I learned over in England.

CHIMES OF FREEDOM (Written by Bob Dylan)

Far between sundown's finish an' midnight's broken toll We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight An' for each an' ev'ry underdog soldier in the night An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

In the city's melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched With faces hidden while the walls were tightening As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin' rain Dissolved into the bells of the lightning Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an' forsaked Tolling for the outcast, burnin' constantly at stake An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind An' the unpawned painter behind beyond his rightful time An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales For the disrobed faceless forms of no position Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts All down in taken-for-granted situations Tolling for the deaf an' blind, tolling for the mute Tolling for the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an' cheated by pursuit An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Even though a cloud's white curtain in a far-off corner flashed An' the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale An' for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jailAn' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Starry-eyed an' laughing as I recall when we were caught Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended As we listened one last time an' we watched with one last look Spellbound an' swallowed 'til the tolling ended Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an' worse An' for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe An' we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

ALL I REALLY WANT TO DO (Written by Bob Dylan)

I ain't lookin' to compete with you, Beat or cheat or mistreat you, Simplify you, classify you, Deny, defy or crucify you. All I really want to do Is, baby, be friends with you.

No, and I ain't lookin' to fight with you, Frighten you or uptighten you, Drag you down or drain you down, Chain you down or bring you down. All I really want to do Is, baby, be friends with you.

I ain't lookin' to block you up Shock or knock or lock you up, Analyze you, categorize you, Finalize you or advertise you. All I really want to do Is, baby, be friends with you.

I don't want to straight-face you, Race or chase you, track or trace you, Or disgrace you or displace you, Or define you or confine you. All I really want to do Is, baby, be friends with you.

I don't want to meet your kin, Make you spin or do you in, Or select you or dissect you, Or inspect you or reject you. All I really want to do Is, baby, be friends with you.

I don't want to fake you out, Take or shake or forsake you out, I ain't lookin' for you to feel like me, See like me or be like me. All I really want to do Is, baby, be friends with you.

IT AIN´T ME, BABE (Written by Bob Dylan)

Go 'way from my window, Leave at your own chosen speed. I'm not the one you want, babe, I'm not the one you need. You say you're lookin' for someone Never weak but always strong, To protect you an' defend you Whether you are right or wrong, Someone to open each and every door, But it ain't me, babe, No, no, no, it ain't me, babe, It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.

Go lightly from the ledge, babe, Go lightly on the ground. I'm not the one you want, babe, I will only let you down. You say you're lookin' for someone Who will promise never to part, Someone to close his eyes for you, Someone to close his heart, Someone who will die for you an' more, But it ain't me, babe, No, no, no, it ain't me, babe, It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.

Go melt back into the night, babe, Everything inside is made of stone. There's nothing in here moving An' anyway I'm not alone. You say you're looking for someone Who'll pick you up each time you fall, To gather flowers constantly An' to come each time you call, A lover for your life an' nothing more, But it ain't me, babe, No, no, no, it ain't me, babe, It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe.

TOMBSTONE BLUES (Written by Bob Dylan)

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