- B. Dylan, Circa.1964 Darkness At The Break Of Noon Shadows Even The Silver Spoon The Hand Made 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' 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 Coloured 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 And Though The Rules Of The Road Have Been Lodged It's Only People's Games That You've 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've 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, Ensure 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've 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
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