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shut softly your watery eyes The pangs of your sadness shall pass as your senses will rise. The flow'rs of the city, tho breath-like, get death-like at times, an' there's no use in tryin' t' deal with the dyin' tho I cannot explain that in lines.
Your cracked country lips I still wish to kiss as to be under the strength of your skin, your magnetic movements still capture the minutes I'm in, but it grieves my heart, love, to see you tryin' to be a part of a world that doesn't exsist; it's all just a dream, Babe, a vacuum, a scheme, Babe, that sucks you into feelin' like this.
I can see that your head has been twisted and fed by worthless foam from the mouth, I can tell you are torn between stayin' and returnin' on back to the south, you've been fooled into thinking that the finishin' end is at hand, yet there's no one to beat you, no one t' defeat you 'cept the thoughts of yourself feeling bad.
I've heard you say many times that you're better'n no one an' no one is better'n you, if you really believe that, you know you got nothin' to win, and nothin' to lose, from fixtures an' forces an' friends your sorrow does stem, that hype you and type you, makin' you feel that you must be exactly like them.
I'd forever talk to you but soon my words, they would turn into a meaningless ring, for deep in my heart I know there is no help I can bring, everything passes everything changes, just do what you think you should do, as someday maybe, who knows, Baby I'll come and be cryin' to you.
(Bob Dylan, 1964 M. Whitmark & Sons)
;-)
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