A writer must “know and have an ever-present consciousness that this world is a world of fools and rogues… tormented with envy, consumed with vanity; selfish, false, cruel, cursed with illusions… He should free himself of all doctrines, theories, etiquettes, politics…” —Ambrose Bierce (1842-1914?). “The nobility of the writer's occupation lies in resisting oppression, thus in accepting isolation” —Albert Camus (1913-1960). “What are you gonna do” —Bertha Brown (1895-1987).
Johnny’s in the basement mixing up the medicine I’m on the pavement, thinking about the government The man in the trench coat, badge out, laid off Says he’s got a bad cough wants to get it paid off Look out kid, it’s somethin’ you did God knows when but you’re doin’ it again You better duck down the alley way Lookin’ for a new friend, the man in the coon-skin cap By the big pen wants eleven dollar bills you only got ten
Maggie comes fleet foot face full of black soot Talkin’ that the heat put plants in the bed but The phone’s tapped anyway, maggie says that many say They must bust in early May, orders from the D.A. Look out kid don’t matter what you did Walk on your tiptoes don’t try “No-Doz” Better stay away from those that carry around a fire hose Keep a clean nose, watch the plain clothes You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows
Ah, get sick, get well hang, around an ink well Ring bell, hard to tell if anything is goin’ to sell Try hard, get barred, get back, write braille Get jailed, jump bail, join the army if you fail Look out kid you’re gonna get hit By users, cheaters six-time losers Hang around the theaters, girl by the whirlpool Lookin’ for a new fool Don’t follow leaders, watch the parkin’ meters
Ah, get born, keep warm Short pants, romance, learn to dance Get dressed, get blessed, try to be a success Please her, please him, buy gifts Don’t steal, don’t lift Twenty years of schoolin’ and they put you on the day shift Look out kid, they keep it all hid Better jump down a manhole, light yourself a candle Don’t wear sandals, try to avoid the scandals Don’t wanna be a bum you better chew gum The pump don’t work’ cause the vandals took the handles.
Subterranean Homesick Blues by Bob Dylan
ReplyDeleteJohnny’s in the basement mixing up the medicine
I’m on the pavement, thinking about the government
The man in the trench coat, badge out, laid off
Says he’s got a bad cough wants to get it paid off
Look out kid, it’s somethin’ you did
God knows when but you’re doin’ it again
You better duck down the alley way
Lookin’ for a new friend, the man in the coon-skin cap
By the big pen wants eleven dollar bills you only got ten
Maggie comes fleet foot face full of black soot
Talkin’ that the heat put plants in the bed but
The phone’s tapped anyway, maggie says that many say
They must bust in early May, orders from the D.A.
Look out kid don’t matter what you did
Walk on your tiptoes don’t try “No-Doz”
Better stay away from those that carry around a fire hose
Keep a clean nose, watch the plain clothes
You don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows
Ah, get sick, get well hang, around an ink well
Ring bell, hard to tell if anything is goin’ to sell
Try hard, get barred, get back, write braille
Get jailed, jump bail, join the army if you fail
Look out kid you’re gonna get hit
By users, cheaters six-time losers
Hang around the theaters, girl by the whirlpool
Lookin’ for a new fool
Don’t follow leaders, watch the parkin’ meters
Ah, get born, keep warm
Short pants, romance, learn to dance
Get dressed, get blessed, try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don’t steal, don’t lift
Twenty years of schoolin’ and they put you on the day shift
Look out kid, they keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole, light yourself a candle
Don’t wear sandals, try to avoid the scandals
Don’t wanna be a bum you better chew gum
The pump don’t work’ cause the vandals took the handles.