Got the Bob Dylan blues
And the Bob Dylan shoes
And my clothes and my hair's in a mess
But cha know I just couldn't care less

Go on write me song
'Bout what's right and what's wrong
'Bout God and my girl and all that
Quiet, while I make like a cat

'Cause I'm a poet
Don't cha know it
And the wind
You can blow it
'Cause I'm Mr Dylan the king
And I'm free as a bird on the wing

Roam from town to town
Guess I get people down
But I don't care too much about that
'Cause my gut and my wallet are fat

Make a whole lotta dough
But I deserve it though
I got soul and a good heart of gold
So I'll sing about war and the cold


Well I sings about dreams
And I rhymes it with seems
Cause it seems that my dream always means
But I can propheci all kinds of things

Well the guy that digs me
Should try hard to see
That he buys all my discs and a hat
And when I'm in town go see that


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