retrain.jsonl

gistfile1.txt

{"text": "<title>Hard Times In New York Town</title> <lyrics>Come you ladies and you gentlemen, a-listen to my song\n\nSing it to you right, but you might think it’s wrong\n\nJust a little glimpse of a story I’ll tell\n\n’Bout an East Coast city that you all know well\n\nIt’s hard times in the city\n\nLivin’ down in New York town\n\n\n\nOld New York City is a friendly old town\n\nFrom Washington Heights to Harlem on down\n\nThere’s a-mighty many people all millin’ all around\n\nThey’ll kick you when you’re up and knock you when you’re down\n\nIt’s hard times in the city\n\nLivin’ down in New York town\n\n\n\nIt’s a mighty long ways from the Golden Gate\n\nTo Rockefeller Plaza ’n’ the Empire State.\n\nMister Rockefeller sets up as high as a bird\n\nOld Mister Empire never says a word\n\nIt’s hard times from the country\n\nLivin’ down in New York town\n\n\n\nWell, it’s up in the mornin’ tryin’ to find a job of work\n\nStand in one place till your feet begin to hurt\n\nIf you got a lot o’ money you can make yourself merry\n\nIf you only got a nickel, it’s the Staten Island Ferry\n\nAnd it’s hard times in the city\n\nLivin’ down in New York town\n\n\n\nMister Hudson come a-sailin’ down the stream\n\nAnd old Mister Minuet paid for his dream\n\nBought your city on a one-way track\n\n’F I had my way I’d sell it right back\n\nAnd it’s hard times in the city\n\nLivin’ down in New York town\n\n\n\nI’ll take all the smog in Cal-i-for-ne-ay\n\n’N’ every bit of dust in the Oklahoma plains\n\n’N’ the dirt in the caves of the Rocky Mountain mines\n\nIt’s all much cleaner than the New York kind\n\nAnd it’s hard times in the city\n\nLivin’ down in New York town\n\n\n\nSo all you newsy people, spread the news around\n\nYou c’n listen to m’ story, listen to m’ song\n\nYou c’n step on my name, you c’n try ’n’ get me beat\n\nWhen I leave New York, I’ll be standin’ on my feet\n\nAnd it’s hard times in the city\n\nLivin’ down in New York town</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Man on the street</title> <lyrics>’ll sing you a song, ain’t very long\n\n’Bout an old man who never done wrong\n\nHow he died nobody can say\n\nThey found him dead in the street one day\n\n\n\nWell, the crowd, they gathered one fine morn\n\nAt the man whose clothes ’n’ shoes were torn\n\nThere on the sidewalk he did lay\n\nThey stopped ’n’ stared ’n’ walked their way\n\n\n\nWell, the p’liceman come and he looked around\n\n“Get up, old man, or I’m a-takin’ you down”\n\nHe jabbed him once with his billy club\n\nAnd the old man then rolled off the curb\n\n\n\nWell, he jabbed him again and loudly said\n\n“Call the wagon; this man is dead”\n\nThe wagon come, they loaded him in\n\nI never saw the man again\n\n\n\nI’ve sung you my song, it ain’t very long\n\n’Bout an old man who never done wrong\n\nHow he died no one can say\n\nThey found him dead in the street one day</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Talkin’ Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues</title> <lyrics>I saw it advertised one day\n\nBear Mountain picnic was comin’ my way\n\n“Come along ’n’ take a trip\n\nWe’ll bring you up there on a ship\n\nBring the wife and kids\n\nBring the whole family”\n\nYippee!\n\n\n\nWell, I run right down ’n’ bought a ticket\n\nTo this Bear Mountain Picnic\n\nBut little did I realize\n\nI was in for a picnic surprise\n\nHad nothin’ to do with mountains\n\nI didn’t even come close to a bear\n\n\n\nTook the wife ’n’ kids down to the pier\n\nSix thousand people there\n\nEverybody had a ticket for the trip\n\n“Oh well,” I said, “it’s a pretty big ship\n\nBesides, anyway, the more the merrier”\n\n\n\nWell, we all got on ’n’ what d’ya think\n\nThat big old boat started t’ sink\n\nMore people kept a-pilin’ on\n\nThat old ship was a-slowly goin’ down\n\nFunny way t’ start a picnic\n\n\n\nWell, I soon lost track of m’ kids ’n’ wife\n\nSo many people there I never saw in m’ life\n\nThat old ship sinkin’ down in the water\n\nSix thousand people tryin’ t’ kill each other\n\nDogs a-barkin’, cats a-meowin’\n\nWomen screamin’, fists a-flyin’, babies cryin’\n\nCops a-comin’, me a-runnin’\n\nMaybe we just better call off the picnic\n\n\n\nI got shoved down ’n’ pushed around\n\nAll I could hear there was a screamin’ sound\n\nDon’t remember one thing more\n\nJust remember wakin’ up on a little shore\n\nHead busted, stomach cracked\n\nFeet splintered, I was bald, naked . . .\n\nQuite lucky to be alive though\n\n\n\nFeelin’ like I climbed outa m’ casket\n\nI grabbed back hold of m’ picnic basket\n\nTook the wife ’n’ kids ’n’ started home\n\nWishin’ I’d never got up that morn\n\n\n\nNow, I don’t care just what you do\n\nIf you wanta have a picnic, that’s up t’ you\n\nBut don’t tell me about it, I don’t wanta hear it\n\n’Cause, see, I just lost all m’ picnic spirit\n\nStay in m’ kitchen, have m’ own picnic . . .\n\nIn the bathroom\n\n\n\nNow, it don’t seem to me quite so funny\n\nWhat some people are gonna do f’r money\n\nThere’s a bran’ new gimmick every day\n\nJust t’ take somebody’s money away\n\nI think we oughta take some o’ these people\n\nAnd put ’em on a boat, send ’em up to Bear Mountain . . .\n\nFor a picnic\n</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Let Me Die in My Footsteps</title> <lyrics>I will not go down under the ground\n\n’Cause somebody tells me that death’s comin’ ’round\n\nAn’ I will not carry myself down to die\n\nWhen I go to my grave my head will be high\n\nLet me die in my footsteps\n\nBefore I go down under the ground\n\n\n\nThere’s been rumors of war and wars that have been\n\nThe meaning of life has been lost in the wind\n\nAnd some people thinkin’ that the end is close by\n\n’Stead of learnin’ to live they are learnin’ to die\n\nLet me die in my footsteps\n\nBefore I go down under the ground\n\n\n\nI don’t know if I’m smart but I think I can see\n\nWhen someone is pullin’ the wool over me\n\nAnd if this war comes and death’s all around\n\nLet me die on this land ’fore I die underground\n\nLet me die in my footsteps\n\nBefore I go down under the ground\n\n\n\nThere’s always been people that have to cause fear\n\nThey’ve been talking of the war now for many long years\n\nI have read all their statements and I’ve not said a word\n\nBut now Lawd God, let my poor voice be heard\n\nLet me die in my footsteps\n\nBefore I go down under the ground\n\n\n\nIf I had rubies and riches and crowns\n\nI’d buy the whole world and change things around\n\nI’d throw all the guns and the tanks in the sea\n\nFor they are mistakes of a past history\n\nLet me die in my footsteps\n\nBefore I go down under the ground\n\n\n\nLet me drink from the waters where the mountain streams flood\n\nLet the smell of wildflowers flow free through my blood\n\nLet me sleep in your meadows with the green grassy leaves\n\nLet me walk down the highway with my brother in peace\n\nLet me die in my footsteps\n\nBefore I go down under the ground\n\n\n\nGo out in your country where the land meets the sun\n\nSee the craters and the canyons where the waterfalls run\n\nNevada, New Mexico, Arizona, Idaho\n\nLet every state in this union seep down deep in your souls\n\nAnd you’ll die in your footsteps\n\nBefore you go down under the ground</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Rambling, Gambling Willie</title> <lyrics>Come around you rovin’ gamblers and a story I will tell\n\nAbout the greatest gambler, you all should know him well\n\nHis name was Will O’Conley and he gambled all his life\n\nHe had twenty-seven children, yet he never had a wife\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nHe gambled in the White House and in the railroad yards\n\nWherever there was people, there was Willie and his cards\n\nHe had the reputation as the gamblin’est man around\n\nWives would keep their husbands home when Willie came to town\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nSailin’ down the Mississippi to a town called New Orleans\n\nThey’re still talkin’ about their card game on that Jackson River Queen\n\n“I’ve come to win some money,” Gamblin’ Willie says\n\nWhen the game finally ended up, the whole damn boat was his\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nUp in the Rocky Mountains in a town called Cripple Creek\n\nThere was an all-night poker game, lasted about a week\n\nNine hundred miners had laid their money down\n\nWhen Willie finally left the room, he owned the whole damn town\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nBut Willie had a heart of gold and this I know is true\n\nHe supported all his children and all their mothers too\n\nHe wore no rings or fancy things, like other gamblers wore\n\nHe spread his money far and wide, to help the sick and the poor\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nWhen you played your cards with Willie, you never really knew\n\nWhether he was bluffin’ or whether he was true\n\nHe won a fortune from a man who folded in his chair\n\nThe man, he left a diamond flush, Willie didn’t even have a pair\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nIt was late one evenin’ during a poker game\n\nA man lost all his money, he said Willie was to blame\n\nHe shot poor Willie through the head, which was a tragic fate\n\nWhen Willie’s cards fell on the floor, they were aces backed with eights\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows\n\n\n\nSo all you rovin’ gamblers, wherever you might be\n\nThe moral of the story is very plain to see\n\nMake your money while you can, before you have to stop\n\nFor when you pull that dead man’s hand, your gamblin’ days are up\n\nAnd it’s ride, Willie, ride\n\nRoll, Willie, roll\n\nWherever you are a-gamblin’ now, nobody really knows</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Talkin’ Hava Negeilah Blues</title> <lyrics>Here's a foreign song I learned in Utah\n\nHa-va-ne-gei-lah\n\nO-de-ley-e-e-oo-</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Quit Your Low Down Ways</title> <lyrics>Oh, you can read out your Bible\n\nYou can fall down on your knees, pretty mama\n\nAnd pray to the Lord\n\nBut it ain’t gonna do no good.\n\n\n\nYou’re gonna need\n\nYou’re gonna need my help someday\n\nWell, if you can’t quit your sinnin’\n\nPlease quit your low down ways\n\n\n\nWell, you can run down to the White House\n\nYou can gaze at the Capitol Dome, pretty mama\n\nYou can pound on the President’s gate\n\nBut you oughta know by now it’s gonna be too late\n\n\n\nYou’re gonna need\n\nYou’re gonna need my help someday\n\nWell, if you can’t quit your sinnin’\n\nPlease quit your low down ways\n\n\n\nWell, you can run down to the desert\n\nThrow yourself on the burning sand\n\nYou can raise up your right hand, pretty mama\n\nBut you better understand you done lost your one good man\n\n\n\nYou’re gonna need\n\nYou’re gonna need my help someday\n\nWell, if you can’t quit your sinnin’\n\nPlease quit your low down ways\n\n\n\nAnd you can hitchhike on the highway\n\nYou can stand all alone by the side of the road\n\nYou can try to flag a ride back home, pretty mama\n\nBut you can’t ride in my car no more\n\n\n\nYou’re gonna need\n\nYou’re gonna need my help someday\n\nWell, if you can’t quit your sinnin’\n\nPlease quit your low down ways\n\n\n\nOh, you can read out your Bible\n\nYou can fall down on your knees, pretty mama\n\nAnd pray to the Lord\n\nBut it ain’t gonna do no good\n\n\n\nYou’re gonna need\n\nYou’re gonna need my help someday\n\nWell, if you can’t quit your sinnin’\n\nPlease quit your low down ways</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Talkin' New York</title> <lyrics>Ramblin’ outa the wild West\n \n Leavin’ the towns I love the best\n \n Thought I’d seen some ups and downs\n \n ’Til I come into New York town\n \n People goin’ down to the ground\n \n Buildings goin’ up to the sky\n \n \n \n Wintertime in New York town\n \n The wind blowin’ snow around\n \n Walk around with nowhere to go\n \n Somebody could freeze right to the bone\n \n I froze right to the bone\n \n New York Times said it was the coldest winter in seventeen years\n \n I didn’t feel so cold then\n \n \n \n I swung onto my old guitar\n \n Grabbed hold of a subway car\n \n And after a rocking, reeling, rolling ride\n \n I landed up on the downtown side\n \n Greenwich Village\n \n \n \n I walked down there and ended up\n \n In one of them coffee-houses on the block\n \n Got on the stage to sing and play\n \n Man there said, “Come back some other day\n \n You sound like a hillbilly\n \n We want folk singers here”\n \n \n \n Well, I got a harmonica job, begun to play\n \n Blowin’ my lungs out for a dollar a day\n \n I blowed inside out and upside down\n \n The man there said he loved m’ sound\n \n He was ravin’ about how he loved m’ sound\n \n Dollar a day’s worth\n \n \n \n And after weeks and weeks of hangin’ around\n \n I finally got a job in New York town\n \n In a bigger place, bigger money too\n \n Even joined the union and paid m’ dues\n \n \n \n Now, a very great man once said\n \n That some people rob you with a fountain pen\n \n It didn’t take too long to find out\n \n Just what he was talkin’ about\n \n A lot of people don’t have much food on their table\n \n But they got a lot of forks ’n’ knives\n \n And they gotta cut somethin’\n \n \n \n So one mornin’ when the sun was warm\n \n I rambled out of New York town\n \n Pulled my cap down over my eyes\n \n And headed out for the western skies\n \n So long, New York\n \n Howdy, East Orange</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Song to Woody</title> <lyrics>I’m out here a thousand miles from my home\n \n Walkin’ a road other men have gone down\n \n I’m seein’ your world of people and things\n \n Your paupers and peasants and princes and kings\n \n \n \n Hey, hey, Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song\n \n ’Bout a funny ol’ world that’s a-comin’ along\n \n Seems sick an’ it’s hungry, it’s tired an’ it’s torn\n \n It looks like it’s a-dyin’ an’ it’s hardly been born\n \n \n \n Hey, Woody Guthrie, but I know that you know\n \n All the things that I’m a-sayin’ an’ a-many times more\n \n I’m a-singin’ you the song, but I can’t sing enough\n \n ’Cause there’s not many men that done the things that you’ve done\n \n \n \n Here’s to Cisco an’ Sonny an’ Leadbelly too\n \n An’ to all the good people that traveled with you\n \n Here’s to the hearts and the hands of the men\n \n That come with the dust and are gone with the wind\n \n \n \n I’m a-leavin’ tomorrow, but I could leave today\n \n Somewhere down the road someday\n \n The very last thing that I’d want to do\n \n Is to say I’ve been hittin’ some hard travelin’ too</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Who Killed Davey Moore?</title> <lyrics>Who killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?\n\n\n\n“Not I,” says the referee\n\n“Don’t point your finger at me\n\nI could’ve stopped it in the eighth\n\nAn’ maybe kept him from his fate\n\nBut the crowd would’ve booed, I’m sure\n\nAt not gettin’ their money’s worth\n\nIt’s too bad he had to go\n\nBut there was a pressure on me too, you know\n\nIt wasn’t me that made him fall\n\nNo, you can’t blame me at all”\n\n\n\nWho killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?\n\n\n\n“Not us,” says the angry crowd\n\nWhose screams filled the arena loud\n\n“It’s too bad he died that night\n\nBut we just like to see a fight\n\nWe didn’t mean for him t’ meet his death\n\nWe just meant to see some sweat\n\nThere ain’t nothing wrong in that\n\nIt wasn’t us that made him fall\n\nNo, you can’t blame us at all”\n\n\n\nWho killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?\n\n\n\n“Not me,” says his manager\n\nPuffing on a big cigar\n\n“It’s hard to say, it’s hard to tell\n\nI always thought that he was well\n\nIt’s too bad for his wife an’ kids he’s dead\n\nBut if he was sick, he should’ve said\n\nIt wasn’t me that made him fall\n\nNo, you can’t blame me at all”\n\n\n\nWho killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?\n\n\n\n“Not me,” says the gambling man\n\nWith his ticket stub still in his hand\n\n“It wasn’t me that knocked him down\n\nMy hands never touched him none\n\nI didn’t commit no ugly sin\n\nAnyway, I put money on him to win\n\nIt wasn’t me that made him fall\n\nNo, you can’t blame me at all”\n\n\n\nWho killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?\n\n\n\n“Not me,” says the boxing writer\n\nPounding print on his old typewriter\n\nSayin’, “Boxing ain’t to blame\n\nThere’s just as much danger in a football game”\n\nSayin’, “Fistfighting is here to stay\n\nIt’s just the old American way\n\nIt wasn’t me that made him fall\n\nNo, you can’t blame me at all”\n\n\n\nWho killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?\n\n\n\n“Not me,” says the man whose fists\n\nLaid him low in a cloud of mist\n\nWho came here from Cuba’s door\n\nWhere boxing ain’t allowed no more\n\n“I hit him, yes, it’s true\n\nBut that’s what I am paid to do\n\nDon’t say ‘murder,’ don’t say ‘kill’\n\nIt was destiny, it was God’s will”\n\n\n\nWho killed Davey Moore\n\nWhy an’ what’s the reason for?</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Talkin’ John Birch Paranoid Blues</title> <lyrics>Well, I was feelin’ sad and feelin’ blue\n\nI didn’t know what in the world I wus gonna do\n\nThem Communists they wus comin’ around\n\nThey wus in the air\n\nThey wus on the ground\n\nThey wouldn’t gimme no peace . . .\n\n\n\nSo I run down most hurriedly\n\nAnd joined up with the John Birch Society\n\nI got me a secret membership card\n\nAnd started off a-walkin’ down the road\n\nYee-hoo, I’m a real John Bircher now!\n\nLook out you Commies!\n\n\n\nNow we all agree with Hitler’s views\n\nAlthough he killed six million Jews\n\nIt don’t matter too much that he was a Fascist\n\nAt least you can’t say he was a Communist!\n\nThat’s to say like if you got a cold you take a shot of malaria\n\n\n\nWell, I wus lookin’ everywhere for them gol-darned Reds\n\nI got up in the mornin’ ’n’ looked under my bed\n\nLooked in the sink, behind the door\n\nLooked in the glove compartment of my car\n\nCouldn’t find ’em . . .\n\n\n\nI wus lookin’ high an’ low for them Reds everywhere\n\nI wus lookin’ in the sink an’ underneath the chair\n\nI looked way up my chimney hole\n\nI even looked deep down inside my toilet bowl\n\nThey got away . . .\n\n\n\nWell, I wus sittin’ home alone an’ started to sweat\n\nFigured they wus in my T.V. set\n\nPeeked behind the picture frame\n\nGot a shock from my feet, hittin’ right up in the brain\n\nThem Reds caused it!\n\nI know they did . . . them hard-core ones\n\n\n\nWell, I quit my job so I could work all alone\n\nThen I changed my name to Sherlock Holmes\n\nFollowed some clues from my detective bag\n\nAnd discovered they wus red stripes on the American flag!\n\nThat ol’ Betsy Ross . . .\n\n\n\nWell, I investigated all the books in the library\n\nNinety percent of ’em gotta be burned away\n\nI investigated all the people that I knowed\n\nNinety-eight percent of them gotta go\n\nThe other two percent are fellow Birchers . . . just like me\n\n\n\nNow Eisenhower, he’s a Russian spy\n\nLincoln, Jefferson and that Roosevelt guy\n\nTo my knowledge there’s just one man\n\nThat’s really a true American: George Lincoln Rockwell\n\nI know for a fact he hates Commies cus he picketed the movie Exodus\n\n\n\nWell, I fin’ly started thinkin’ straight\n\nWhen I run outa things to investigate\n\nCouldn’t imagine doin’ anything else\n\nSo now I’m sittin’ home investigatin’ myself!\n\nHope I don’t find out anything . . . hmm, great God!\n</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Paths of Victory</title> <lyrics>Trails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nI shall walk\n\n\n\nThe trail is dusty\n\nAnd my road it might be rough\n\nBut the better roads are waiting\n\nAnd boys it ain’t far off\n\n\n\nTrails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nWe shall walk\n\n\n\nI walked down by the river\n\nI turned my head up high\n\nI saw that silver linin’\n\nThat was hangin’ in the sky\n\n\n\nTrails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nWe shall walk\n\n\n\nThe evenin’ dusk was rollin’\n\nI was walking down the track\n\nThere was a one-way wind a-blowin’\n\nAnd it was blowin’ at my back\n\n\n\nTrails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nWe shall walk\n\n\n\nThe gravel road is bumpy\n\nIt’s a hard road to ride\n\nBut there’s a clearer road a-waitin’\n\nWith the cinders on the side\n\n\n\nTrails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nWe shall walk\n\n\n\nThat evening train was rollin’\n\nThe hummin’ of its wheels\n\nMy eyes they saw a better day\n\nAs I looked across the fields\n\n\n\nTrails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nWe shall walk\n\n\n\nThe trail is dusty\n\nThe road it might be rough\n\nBut the good road is a-waitin’\n\nAnd boys it ain’t far off\n\n\n\nTrails of troubles\n\nRoads of battles\n\nPaths of victory\n\nWe shall walk\n</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Walls of Red Wing</title> <lyrics>Oh, the age of the inmates\n\nI remember quite freely:\n\nNo younger than twelve\n\nNo older ’n seventeen\n\nThrown in like bandits\n\nAnd cast off like criminals\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nFrom the dirty old mess hall\n\nYou march to the brick wall\n\nToo weary to talk\n\nAnd too tired to sing\n\nOh, it’s all afternoon\n\nYou remember your hometown\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nOh, the gates are cast iron\n\nAnd the walls are barbed wire\n\nStay far from the fence\n\nWith the ’lectricity sting\n\nAnd it’s keep down your head\n\nAnd stay in your number\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nOh, it’s fare thee well\n\nTo the deep hollow dungeon\n\nFarewell to the boardwalk\n\nThat takes you to the screen\n\nAnd farewell to the minutes\n\nThey threaten you with it\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nIt’s many a guard\n\nThat stands around smilin’\n\nHoldin’ his club\n\nLike he was a king\n\nHopin’ to get you\n\nBehind a wood pilin’\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nThe night aimed shadows\n\nThrough the crossbar windows\n\nAnd the wind punched hard\n\nTo make the wall-siding sing\n\nIt’s many a night\n\nI pretended to be a-sleepin’\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nAs the rain rattled heavy\n\nOn the bunkhouse shingles\n\nAnd the sounds in the night\n\nThey made my ears ring\n\n’Til the keys of the guards\n\nClicked the tune of the morning\n\nInside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing\n\n\n\nOh, some of us’ll end up\n\nIn St. Cloud Prison\n\nAnd some of us’ll wind up\n\nTo be lawyers and things\n\nAnd some of us’ll stand up\n\nTo meet you on your crossroads\n\nFrom inside the walls\n\nThe walls of Red Wing</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie</title> <lyrics>When yer head gets twisted and yer mind grows numb\n\nWhen you think you're too old, too young, too smart or too dumb\n\nWhen yer laggin' behind an' losin' yer pace\n\nIn a slow-motion crawl of life's busy race\n\nNo matter what yer doing if you start givin' up\n\nIf the wine don't come to the top of yer cup\n\nIf the wind's got you sideways with with one hand holdin' on\n\nAnd the other starts slipping and the feeling is gone\n\nAnd yer train engine fire needs a new spark to catch it\n\nAnd the wood's easy findin' but yer lazy to fetch it\n\nAnd yer sidewalk starts curlin' and the street gets too long\n\nAnd you start walkin' backwards though you know its wrong\n\nAnd lonesome comes up as down goes the day\n\nAnd tomorrow's mornin' seems so far away\n\nAnd you feel the reins from yer pony are slippin'\n\nAnd yer rope is a-slidin' 'cause yer hands are a-drippin'\n\nAnd yer sun-decked desert and evergreen valleys\n\nTurn to broken down slums and trash-can alleys\n\nAnd yer sky cries water and yer drain pipe's a-pourin'\n\nAnd the lightnin's a-flashing and the thunder's a-crashin'\n\nAnd the windows are rattlin' and breakin' and the roof tops a-shakin'\n\nAnd yer whole world's a-slammin' and bangin'\n\nAnd yer minutes of sun turn to hours of storm\n\nAnd to yourself you sometimes say\n\nI never knew it was gonna be this way\n\nWhy didn't they tell me the day I was born\n\nAnd you start gettin' chills and yer jumping from sweat\n\nAnd you're lookin' for somethin' you ain't quite found yet\n\nAnd yer knee-deep in the dark water with yer hands in the air\n\nAnd the whole world's a-watchin' with a window peek stare\n\nAnd yer good gal leaves and she's long gone a-flying\n\nAnd yer heart feels sick like fish when they're fryin'\n\nAnd yer jackhammer falls from yer hand to yer feet\n\nAnd you need it badly but it lays on the street\n\nAnd yer bell's bangin' loudly but you can't hear its beat\n\nAnd you think yer ears might a been hurt\n\nOr yer eyes've turned filthy from the sight-blindin' dirt\n\nAnd you figured you failed in yesterdays rush\n\nWhen you were faked out an' fooled white facing a four flush\n\nAnd all the time you were holdin' three queens\n\nAnd it's makin you mad, it's makin' you mean\n\nLike in the middle of Life magazine\n\nBouncin' around a pinball machine\n\nAnd there's something on yer mind you wanna be saying\n\nThat somebody someplace oughta be hearin'\n\nBut it's trapped on yer tongue and sealed in yer head\n\nAnd it bothers you badly when your layin' in bed\n\nAnd no matter how you try you just can't say it\n\nAnd yer scared to yer soul you just might forget it\n\nAnd yer eyes get swimmy from the tears in yer head\n\nAnd yer pillows of feathers turn to blankets of lead\n\nAnd the lion's mouth opens and yer staring at his teeth\n\nAnd his jaws start closin with you underneath\n\nAnd yer flat on your belly with yer hands tied behind\n\nAnd you wish you'd never taken that last detour sign\n\nAnd you say to yourself just what am I doin'\n\nOn this road I'm walkin', on this trail I'm turnin'\n\nOn this curve I'm hanging\n\nOn this pathway I'm strolling, in the space I'm taking\n\nIn this air I'm inhaling\n\nAm I mixed up too much, am I mixed up too hard\n\nWhy am I walking, where am I running\n\nWhat am I saying, what am I knowing\n\nOn this guitar I'm playing, on this banjo I'm frailin'\n\nOn this mandolin I'm strummin', in the song I'm singin'\n\nIn the tune I'm hummin', in the words I'm writin'\n\nIn the words that I'm thinkin'\n\nIn this ocean of hours I'm all the time drinkin'\n\nWho am I helping, what am I breaking\n\nWhat am I giving, what am I taking\n\nBut you try with your whole soul best\n\nNever to think these thoughts and never to let\n\nThem kind of thoughts gain ground\n\nOr make yer heart pound\n\nBut then again you know why they're around\n\nJust waiting for a chance to slip and drop down\n\nCause sometimes you hear'em when the night times comes creeping\n\nAnd you fear that they might catch you a-sleeping\n\nAnd you jump from yer bed, from yer last chapter of dreamin'\n\nAnd you can't remember for the best of yer thinking\n\nIf that was you in the dream that was screaming\n\nAnd you know that it's something special you're needin'\n\nAnd you know that there's no drug that'll do for the healin'\n\nAnd no liquor in the land to stop yer brain from bleeding\n\nAnd you need something special\n\nYeah, you need something special all right\n\nYou need a fast flyin' train on a tornado track\n\nTo shoot you someplace and shoot you back\n\nYou need a cyclone wind on a stream engine howler\n\nThat's been banging and booming and blowing forever\n\nThat knows yer troubles a hundred times over\n\nYou need a Greyhound bus that don't bar no race\n\nThat won't laugh at yer looks\n\nYour voice or your face\n\nAnd by any number of bets in the book\n\nWill be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze\n\nYou need something to open up a new door\n\nTo show you something you seen before\n\nBut overlooked a hundred times or more\n\nYou need something to open your eyes\n\nYou need something to make it known\n\nThat it's you and no one else that owns\n\nThat spot that yer standing, that space that you're sitting\n\nThat the world ain't got you beat\n\nThat it ain't got you licked\n\nIt can't get you crazy no matter how many\n\nTimes you might get kicked\n\nYou need something special all right\n\nYou need something special to give you hope\n\nBut hope's just a word\n\nThat maybe you said or maybe you heard\n\nOn some windy corner 'round a wide-angled curve\n\n\n\nBut that's what you need man, and you need it bad\n\nAnd yer trouble is you know it too good\n\nCause you look an' you start getting the chills\n\n\n\nCause you can't find it on a dollar bill\n\nAnd it ain't on Macy's window sill\n\nAnd it ain't on no rich kid's road map\n\nAnd it ain't in no fat kid's fraternity house\n\nAnd it ain't made in no Hollywood wheat germ\n\nAnd it ain't on that dimlit stage\n\nWith that half-wit comedian on it\n\nRanting and raving and taking yer money\n\nAnd you thinks it's funny\n\nNo you can't find it in no night club or no yacht club\n\nAnd it ain't in the seats of a supper club\n\nAnd sure as hell you're bound to tell\n\nThat no matter how hard you rub\n\nYou just ain't a-gonna find it on yer ticket stub\n\nNo, and it ain't in the rumors people're tellin' you\n\nAnd it ain't in the pimple-lotion people are sellin' you\n\nAnd it ain't in no cardboard-box house\n\nOr down any movie star's blouse\n\nAnd you can't find it on the golf course\n\nAnd Uncle Remus can't tell you and neither can Santa Claus\n\nAnd it ain't in the cream puff hair-do or cotton candy clothes\n\nAnd it ain't in the dime store dummies or bubblegum goons\n\nAnd it ain't in the marshmallow noises of the chocolate cake voices\n\nThat come knockin' and tappin' in Christmas wrappin'\n\nSayin' ain't I pretty and ain't I cute and look at my skin\n\nLook at my skin shine, look at my skin glow\n\nLook at my skin laugh, look at my skin cry\n\nWhen you can't even sense if they got any insides\n\nThese people so pretty in their ribbons and bows\n\nNo you'll not now or no other day\n\nFind it on the doorsteps made out-a paper mache¥\n\nAnd inside it the people made of molasses\n\nThat every other day buy a new pair of sunglasses\n\nAnd it ain't in the fifty-star generals and flipped-out phonies\n\nWho'd turn yuh in for a tenth of a penny\n\nWho breathe and burp and bend and crack\n\nAnd before you can count from one to ten\n\nDo it all over again but this time behind yer back\n\nMy friend\n\nThe ones that wheel and deal and whirl and twirl\n\nAnd play games with each other in their sand-box world\n\nAnd you can't find it either in the no-talent fools\n\nThat run around gallant\n\nAnd make all rules for the ones that got talent\n\nAnd it ain't in the ones that ain't got any talent but think they do\n\nAnd think they're foolin' you\n\nThe ones who jump on the wagon\n\nJust for a while 'cause they know it's in style\n\nTo get their kicks, get out of it quick\n\nAnd make all kinds of money and chicks\n\nAnd you yell to yourself and you throw down yer hat\n\nSayin', Christ do I gotta be like that\n\nAin't there no one here that knows where I'm at\n\nAin't there no one here that knows how I feel\n\nGood God Almighty\n\nTHAT STUFF AIN'T REAL\n\n\n\nNo but that ain't yer game, it ain't even yer race\n\nYou can't hear yer name, you can't see yer face\n\nYou gotta look some other place\n\nAnd where do you look for this hope that yer seekin'\n\nWhere do you look for this lamp that's a-burnin'\n\nWhere do you look for this oil well gushin'\n\nWhere do you look for this candle that's glowin'\n\nWhere do you look for this hope that you know is there\n\nAnd out there somewhere\n\nAnd your feet can only walk down two kinds of roads\n\nYour eyes can only look through two kinds of windows\n\nYour nose can only smell two kinds of hallways\n\nYou can touch and twist\n\nAnd turn two kinds of doorknobs\n\nYou can either go to the church of your choice\n\nOr you can go to Brooklyn State Hospital\n\nYou'll find God in the church of your choice\n\nYou'll find Woody Guthrie in Brooklyn State Hospital\n\n\n\nAnd though it's only my opinion\n\nI may be right or wrong\n\nYou'll find them both\n\nIn the Grand Canyon\n\nAt sundown</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Down the Highway</title> <lyrics>Well, I’m walkin’ down the highway\n \n With my suitcase in my hand\n \n Yes, I’m walkin’ down the highway\n \n With my suitcase in my hand\n \n Lord, I really miss my baby\n \n She’s in some far-off land\n \n \n \n Well, your streets are gettin’ empty\n \n Lord, your highway’s gettin’ filled\n \n And your streets are gettin’ empty\n \n And your highway’s gettin’ filled\n \n Well, the way I love that woman\n \n I swear it’s bound to get me killed\n \n \n \n Well, I been gamblin’ so long\n \n Lord, I ain’t got much more to lose\n \n Yes, I been gamblin’ so long\n \n Lord, I ain’t got much more to lose\n \n Right now I’m havin’ trouble\n \n Please don’t take away my highway shoes\n \n \n \n Well, I’m bound to get lucky, baby\n \n Or I’m bound to die tryin’\n \n Yes, I’m a-bound to get lucky, baby\n \n Lord, Lord I’m a-bound to die tryin’\n \n Well, meet me in the middle of the ocean\n \n And we’ll leave this ol’ highway behind\n \n \n \n Well, the ocean took my baby\n \n My baby stole my heart from me\n \n Yes, the ocean took my baby\n \n My baby took my heart from me\n \n She packed it all up in a suitcase\n \n Lord, she took it away to Italy, Italy\n \n \n \n So, I’m a-walkin’ down your highway\n \n Just as far as my poor eyes can see\n \n Yes, I’m a-walkin’ down your highway\n \n Just as far as my eyes can see\n \n From the Golden Gate Bridge\n \n All the way to the Statue of Liberty</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Masters of War</title> <lyrics>Come you masters of war\n \n You that build all the guns\n \n You that build the death planes\n \n You that build the big bombs\n \n You that hide behind walls\n \n You that hide behind desks\n \n I just want you to know\n \n I can see through your masks\n \n \n \n You that never done nothin’\n \n But build to destroy\n \n You play with my world\n \n Like it’s your little toy\n \n You put a gun in my hand\n \n And you hide from my eyes\n \n And you turn and run farther\n \n When the fast bullets fly\n \n \n \n Like Judas of old\n \n You lie and deceive\n \n A world war can be won\n \n You want me to believe\n \n But I see through your eyes\n \n And I see through your brain\n \n Like I see through the water\n \n That runs down my drain\n \n \n \n You fasten the triggers\n \n For the others to fire\n \n Then you set back and watch\n \n When the death count gets higher\n \n You hide in your mansion\n \n As young people’s blood\n \n Flows out of their bodies\n \n And is buried in the mud\n \n \n \n You’ve thrown the worst fear\n \n That can ever be hurled\n \n Fear to bring children\n \n Into the world\n \n For threatening my baby\n \n Unborn and unnamed\n \n You ain’t worth the blood\n \n That runs in your veins\n \n \n \n How much do I know\n \n To talk out of turn\n \n You might say that I’m young\n \n You might say I’m unlearned\n \n But there’s one thing I know\n \n Though I’m younger than you\n \n Even Jesus would never\n \n Forgive what you do\n \n \n \n Let me ask you one question\n \n Is your money that good\n \n Will it buy you forgiveness\n \n Do you think that it could\n \n I think you will find\n \n When your death takes its toll\n \n All the money you made\n \n Will never buy back your soul\n \n \n \n And I hope that you die\n \n And your death’ll come soon\n \n I will follow your casket\n \n In the pale afternoon\n \n And I’ll watch while you’re lowered\n \n Down to your deathbed\n \n And I’ll stand o’er your grave\n \n ’Til I’m sure that you’re dead</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Bob Dylan's Blues</title> <lyrics>Well, the Lone Ranger and Tonto\n \n They are ridin’ down the line\n \n Fixin’ ev’rybody’s troubles\n \n Ev’rybody’s ’cept mine\n \n Somebody musta tol’ ’em\n \n That I was doin’ fine\n \n \n \n Oh you five and ten cent women\n \n With nothin’ in your heads\n \n I got a real gal I’m lovin’\n \n And Lord I’ll love her till I’m dead\n \n Go away from my door and my window too\n \n Right now\n \n \n \n Lord, I ain’t goin’ down to no race track\n \n See no sports car run\n \n I don’t have no sports car\n \n And I don’t even care to have one\n \n I can walk anytime around the block\n \n \n \n Well, the wind keeps a-blowin’ me\n \n Up and down the street\n \n With my hat in my hand\n \n And my boots on my feet\n \n Watch out so you don’t step on me\n \n \n \n Well, lookit here buddy\n \n You want to be like me\n \n Pull out your six-shooter\n \n And rob every bank you can see\n \n Tell the judge I said it was all right\n \n Yes!</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Walkin’ Down the Line</title> <lyrics>Well, I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nI’m walkin’ down the line\n\nAn’ I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nMy feet’ll be a-flyin’\n\nTo tell about my troubled mind\n\n\n\nI got a heavy-headed gal\n\nI got a heavy-headed gal\n\nI got a heavy-headed gal\n\nShe ain’t a-feelin’ well\n\nWhen she’s better only time will tell\n\n\n\nWell, I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nI’m walkin’ down the line\n\nAn’ I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nMy feet’ll be a-flyin’\n\nTo tell about my troubled mind\n\n\n\nMy money comes and goes\n\nMy money comes and goes\n\nMy money comes and goes\n\nAnd rolls and flows and rolls and flows\n\nThrough the holes in the pockets in my clothes\n\n\n\nWell, I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nI’m walkin’ down the line\n\nAn’ I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nMy feet’ll be a-flyin’\n\nTo tell about my troubled mind\n\n\n\nI see the morning light\n\nI see the morning light\n\nWell, it’s not because\n\nI’m an early riser\n\nI didn’t go to sleep last night\n\n\n\nWell, I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nI’m walkin’ down the line\n\nAn’ I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nMy feet’ll be a-flyin’\n\nTo tell about my troubled mind\n\n\n\nI got my walkin’ shoes\n\nI got my walkin’ shoes\n\nI got my walkin’ shoes\n\nAn’ I ain’t a-gonna lose\n\nI believe I got the walkin’ blues\n\n\n\nWell, I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nI’m walkin’ down the line\n\nAn’ I’m walkin’ down the line\n\nMy feet’ll be a-flyin’\n\nTo tell about my troubled mind</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Only a Hobo</title> <lyrics>As I was out walking on a corner one day\n\nI spied an old hobo, in a doorway he lay\n\nHis face was all grounded in the cold sidewalk floor\n\nAnd I guess he’d been there for the whole night or more\n\n\n\nOnly a hobo, but one more is gone\n\nLeavin’ nobody to sing his sad song\n\nLeavin’ nobody to carry him home\n\nOnly a hobo, but one more is gone\n\n\n\nA blanket of newspaper covered his head\n\nAs the curb was his pillow, the street was his bed\n\nOne look at his face showed the hard road he’d come\n\nAnd a fistful of coins showed the money he bummed\n\n\n\nOnly a hobo, but one more is gone\n\nLeavin’ nobody to sing his sad song\n\nLeavin’ nobody to carry him home\n\nOnly a hobo, but one more is gone\n\n\n\nDoes it take much of a man to see his whole life go down\n\nTo look up on the world from a hole in the ground\n\nTo wait for your future like a horse that’s gone lame\n\nTo lie in the gutter and die with no name?\n\n\n\nOnly a hobo, but one more is gone\n\nLeavin’ nobody to sing his sad song\n\nLeavin’ nobody to carry him home\n\nOnly a hobo, but one more is gone</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Girl from the North Country</title> <lyrics>Well, if you’re travelin’ in the north country fair\n \n Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline\n \n Remember me to one who lives there\n \n She once was a true love of mine\n \n \n \n Well, if you go when the snowflakes storm\n \n When the rivers freeze and summer ends\n \n Please see if she’s wearing a coat so warm\n \n To keep her from the howlin’ winds\n \n \n \n Please see for me if her hair hangs long,\n \n If it rolls and flows all down her breast.\n \n Please see for me if her hair hangs long,\n \n That’s the way I remember her best.\n \n \n \n I’m a-wonderin’ if she remembers me at all\n \n Many times I’ve often prayed\n \n In the darkness of my night\n \n In the brightness of my day\n \n \n \n So if you’re travelin’ in the north country fair\n \n Where the winds hit heavy on the borderline\n \n Remember me to one who lives there\n \n She once was a true love of mine</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Blowin' in the wind</title> <lyrics>How many roads must a man walk down\n \n Before you call him a man?\n \n Yes, ’n’ how many seas must a white dove sail\n \n Before she sleeps in the sand?\n \n Yes, ’n’ how many times must the cannonballs fly\n \n Before they’re forever banned?\n \n The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind\n \n The answer is blowin’ in the wind\n \n \n \n How many years can a mountain exist\n \n Before it’s washed to the sea?\n \n Yes, ’n’ how many years can some people exist\n \n Before they’re allowed to be free?\n \n Yes, ’n’ how many times can a man turn his head\n \n Pretending he just doesn’t see?\n \n The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind\n \n The answer is blowin’ in the wind\n \n \n \n How many times must a man look up\n \n Before he can see the sky?\n \n Yes, ’n’ how many ears must one man have\n \n Before he can hear people cry?\n \n Yes, ’n’ how many deaths will it take till he knows\n \n That too many people have died?\n \n The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind\n \n The answer is blowin’ in the wind</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall</title> <lyrics>Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?\n \n Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?\n \n I’ve stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains\n \n I’ve walked and I’ve crawled on six crooked highways\n \n I’ve stepped in the middle of seven sad forests\n \n I’ve been out in front of a dozen dead oceans\n \n I’ve been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard\n \n And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, and it’s a hard\n \n And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall\n \n \n \n Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?\n \n Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?\n \n I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it\n \n I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it\n \n I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin’\n \n I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin’\n \n I saw a white ladder all covered with water\n \n I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken\n \n I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children\n \n And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard\n \n And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall\n \n \n \n And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?\n \n And what did you hear, my darling young one?\n \n I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin’\n \n Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world\n \n Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin’\n \n Heard ten thousand whisperin’ and nobody listenin’\n \n Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin’\n \n Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter\n \n Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley\n \n And it’s a hard, and it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard\n \n And it’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall\n \n \n \n Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?\n \n Who did you meet, my darling young one?\n \n I met a young child beside a dead pony\n \n I met a white man who walked a black dog\n \n I met a young woman whose body was burning\n \n I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow\n \n I met one man who was wounded in love\n \n I met another man who was wounded with hatred\n \n And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard\n \n It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall\n \n \n \n Oh, what’ll you do now, my blue-eyed son?\n \n Oh, what’ll you do now, my darling young one?\n \n I’m a-goin’ back out ’fore the rain starts a-fallin’\n \n I’ll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest\n \n Where the people are many and their hands are all empty\n \n Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters\n \n Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison\n \n Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden\n \n Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten\n \n Where black is the color, where none is the number\n \n And I’ll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it\n \n And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it\n \n Then I’ll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin’\n \n But I’ll know my song well before I start singin’\n \n And it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard, it’s a hard\n \n It’s a hard rain’s a-gonna fall</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Oxford Town</title> <lyrics>Oxford Town, Oxford Town\n \n Ev’rybody’s got their heads bowed down\n \n The sun don’t shine above the ground\n \n Ain’t a-goin’ down to Oxford Town\n \n \n \n He went down to Oxford Town\n \n Guns and clubs followed him down\n \n All because his face was brown\n \n Better get away from Oxford Town\n \n \n \n Oxford Town around the bend\n \n He come in to the door, he couldn’t get in\n \n All because of the color of his skin\n \n What do you think about that, my frien’?\n \n \n \n Me and my gal, my gal’s son\n \n We got met with a tear gas bomb\n \n I don’t even know why we come\n \n Goin’ back where we come from\n \n \n \n Oxford Town in the afternoon\n \n Ev’rybody singin’ a sorrowful tune\n \n Two men died ’neath the Mississippi moon\n \n Somebody better investigate soon\n \n \n \n Oxford Town, Oxford Town\n \n Ev’rybody’s got their heads bowed down\n \n The sun don’t shine above the ground\n \n Ain’t a-goin’ down to Oxford Town</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Eternal Circle</title> <lyrics>I sang the song slowly\n\nAs she stood in the shadows\n\nShe stepped to the light\n\nAs my silver strings spun\n\nShe called with her eyes\n\nTo the tune I’s a-playin’\n\nBut the song it was long\n\nAnd I’d only begun\n\n\n\nThrough a bullet of light\n\nHer face was reflectin’\n\nThe fast fading words\n\nThat rolled from my tongue\n\nWith a long-distance look\n\nHer eyes was on fire\n\nBut the song it was long\n\nAnd there was more to be sung\n\n\n\nMy eyes danced a circle\n\nAcross her clear outline\n\nWith her head tilted sideways\n\nShe called me again\n\nAs the tune drifted out\n\nShe breathed hard through the echo\n\nBut the song it was long\n\nAnd it was far to the end\n\n\n\nI glanced at my guitar\n\nAnd played it pretendin’\n\nThat of all the eyes out there\n\nI could see none\n\nAs her thoughts pounded hard\n\nLike the pierce of an arrow\n\nBut the song it was long\n\nAnd it had to get done\n\n\n\nAs the tune finally folded\n\nI laid down the guitar\n\nThen looked for the girl\n\nWho’d stayed for so long\n\nBut her shadow was missin’\n\nFor all of my searchin’\n\nSo I picked up my guitar\n\nAnd began the next song</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Corrina, Corrina</title> <lyrics>Corrina, Corrina\n \n Gal, where you been so long?\n \n Corrina, Corrina\n \n Gal, where you been so long?\n \n I been worr’in’ ’bout you, baby\n \n Baby, please come home\n \n \n \n I got a bird that whistles\n \n I got a bird that sings\n \n I got a bird that whistles\n \n I got a bird that sings\n \n But I ain’ a-got Corrina\n \n Life don’t mean a thing\n \n \n \n Corrina, Corrina\n \n Gal, you’re on my mind\n \n Corrina, Corrina\n \n Gal, you’re on my mind\n \n I’m a-thinkin’ ’bout you, baby\n \n I just can’t keep from crying.</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Talkin' World War III Blues</title> <lyrics>Some time ago a crazy dream came to me\n \n I dreamt I was walkin’ into World War Three\n \n I went to the doctor the very next day\n \n To see what kinda words he could say\n \n He said it was a bad dream\n \n I wouldn’t worry ’bout it none, though\n \n They were my own dreams and they’re only in my head\n \n \n \n I said, “Hold it, Doc, a World War passed through my brain”\n \n He said, “Nurse, get your pad, this boy’s insane”\n \n He grabbed my arm, I said, “Ouch!”\n \n As I landed on the psychiatric couch\n \n He said, “Tell me about it”\n \n \n \n Well, the whole thing started at 3 o’clock fast\n \n It was all over by quarter past\n \n I was down in the sewer with some little lover\n \n When I peeked out from a manhole cover\n \n Wondering who turned the lights on\n \n \n \n Well, I got up and walked around\n \n And up and down the lonesome town\n \n I stood a-wondering which way to go\n \n I lit a cigarette on a parking meter and walked on down the road\n \n It was a normal day\n \n \n \n Well, I rung the fallout shelter bell\n \n And I leaned my head and I gave a yell\n \n “Give me a string bean, I’m a hungry man”\n \n A shotgun fired and away I ran\n \n I don’t blame them too much though, I know I look funny\n \n \n \n Down at the corner by a hot-dog stand\n \n I seen a man\n \n I said, “Howdy friend, I guess there’s just us two”\n \n He screamed a bit and away he flew\n \n Thought I was a Communist\n \n \n \n Well, I spied a girl and before she could leave\n \n “Let’s go and play Adam and Eve”\n \n I took her by the hand and my heart it was thumpin’\n \n When she said, “Hey man, you crazy or sumpin’\n \n You see what happened last time they started”\n \n \n \n Well, I seen a Cadillac window uptown\n \n And there was nobody aroun’\n \n I got into the driver’s seat\n \n And I drove down 42nd Street\n \n In my Cadillac. Good car to drive after a war\n \n \n \n Well, I remember seein’ some ad\n \n So I turned on my Conelrad\n \n But I didn’t pay my Con Ed bill\n \n So the radio didn’t work so well\n \n Turned on my record player—\n \n It was Rock-a-day Johnny singin’, “Tell Your Ma, Tell Your Pa\n \n Our Love’s A-gonna Grow Ooh-wah, Ooh-wah”\n \n \n \n I was feelin’ kinda lonesome and blue\n \n I needed somebody to talk to\n \n So I called up the operator of time\n \n Just to hear a voice of some kind\n \n “When you hear the beep it will be three o’clock”\n \n She said that for over an hour\n \n And I hung up\n \n \n \n Well, the doctor interrupted me just about then\n \n Sayin’, “Hey I’ve been havin’ the same old dreams\n \n But mine was a little different you see\n \n I dreamt that the only person left after the war was me\n \n I didn’t see you around”\n \n \n \n Well, now time passed and now it seems\n \n Everybody’s having them dreams\n \n Everybody sees themselves\n \n Walkin’ around with no one else\n \n Half of the people can be part right all of the time\n \n Some of the people can be all right part of the time\n \n But all of the people can’t be all right all of the time\n \n I think Abraham Lincoln said that\n \n “I’ll let you be in my dreams if I can be in yours”\n \n I said that</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>I Shall Be Free</title> <lyrics>Well, I took me a woman late last night\n \n I’s three-fourths drunk, she looked uptight\n \n She took off her wheel, took off her bell\n \n Took off her wig, said, “How do I smell?\n \n I hot-footed it . . . bare-naked . . .\n \n Out the window!\n \n \n \n Well, sometimes I might get drunk\n \n Walk like a duck and stomp like a skunk\n \n Don’t hurt me none, don’t hurt my pride\n \n ’Cause I got my little lady right by my side\n \n (Right there\n \n Proud as can be)\n \n \n \n I’s out there paintin’ on the old woodshed\n \n When a can a black paint it fell on my head\n \n I went down to scrub and rub\n \n But I had to sit in back of the tub\n \n (Cost a quarter\n \n And I had to get out quick . . .\n \n Someone wanted to come in and take a sauna)\n \n \n \n Well, my telephone rang it would not stop\n \n It’s President Kennedy callin’ me up\n \n He said, “My friend, Bob, what do we need to make the country grow?”\n \n I said, “My friend, John, Brigitte Bardot\n \n Anita Ekberg\n \n Sophia Loren”\n \n (Put ’em all in the same room with Ernest Borgnine!)\n \n \n \n Well, I got a woman sleeps on a cot\n \n She yells and hollers and squeals a lot\n \n Licks my face and tickles my ear\n \n Bends me over and buys me beer\n \n (She’s a honeymooner\n \n A June crooner\n \n A spoon feeder\n \n And a natural leader)\n \n \n \n Oh, there ain’t no use in me workin’ so heavy\n \n I got a woman who works on the levee\n \n Pumping that water up to her neck\n \n Every week she sends me a monthly check\n \n (She’s a humdinger\n \n Folk singer\n \n Dead ringer\n \n For a thing-a-muh jigger)\n \n \n \n Late one day in the middle of the week\n \n Eyes were closed I was half asleep\n \n I chased me a woman up the hill\n \n Right in the middle of an air-raid drill\n \n It was Little Bo Peep!\n \n (I jumped a fallout shelter\n \n I jumped a bean stalk\n \n I jumped a Ferris wheel)\n \n \n \n Now, the man on the stand he wants my vote\n \n He’s a-runnin’ for office on the ballot note\n \n He’s out there preachin’ in front of the steeple\n \n Tellin’ me he loves all kinds-a people\n \n (He’s eatin’ bagels\n \n He’s eatin’ pizza\n \n He’s eatin’ chitlins\n \n He’s eatin’ bullshit!)\n \n \n \n Oh, set me down on a television floor\n \n I’ll flip the channel to number four\n \n Out of the shower comes a grown-up man\n \n With a bottle of hair oil in his hand\n \n (It’s that greasy kid stuff\n \n What I want to know, Mr. Football Man, is\n \n What do you do about Willy Mays and Yul Brynner\n \n Charles de Gaulle\n \n And Robert Louis Stevenson?)\n \n \n \n Well, the funniest woman I ever seen\n \n Was the great-granddaughter of Mr. Clean\n \n She takes about fifteen baths a day\n \n Wants me to grow a cigar on my face\n \n (She’s a little bit heavy!)\n \n \n \n Well, ask me why I’m drunk alla time\n \n It levels my head and eases my mind\n \n I just walk along and stroll and sing\n \n I see better days and I do better things\n \n (I catch dinosaurs\n \n I make love to Elizabeth Taylor . . .\n \n Catch hell from Richard Burton!)</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Bob Dylan's Dream</title> <lyrics>While riding on a train goin’ west\n \n I fell asleep for to take my rest\n \n I dreamed a dream that made me sad\n \n Concerning myself and the first few friends I had\n \n \n \n With half-damp eyes I stared to the room\n \n Where my friends and I spent many an afternoon\n \n Where we together weathered many a storm\n \n Laughin’ and singin’ till the early hours of the morn\n \n \n \n By the old wooden stove where our hats was hung\n \n Our words were told, our songs were sung\n \n Where we longed for nothin’ and were quite satisfied\n \n Talkin’ and a-jokin’ about the world outside\n \n \n \n With haunted hearts through the heat and cold\n \n We never thought we could ever get old\n \n We thought we could sit forever in fun\n \n But our chances really was a million to one\n \n \n \n As easy it was to tell black from white\n \n It was all that easy to tell wrong from right\n \n And our choices were few and the thought never hit\n \n That the one road we traveled would ever shatter and split\n \n \n \n How many a year has passed and gone\n \n And many a gamble has been lost and won\n \n And many a road taken by many a friend\n \n And each one I’ve never seen again\n \n \n \n I wish, I wish, I wish in vain\n \n That we could sit simply in that room again\n \n Ten thousand dollars at the drop of a hat\n \n I’d give it all gladly if our lives could be like that</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Honey, Just Allow Me One More Chance</title> <lyrics>Honey, just allow me one more chance\n \n To get along with you\n \n Honey, just allow me one more chance\n \n Ah’ll do anything with you\n \n Well, I’m a-walkin’ down the road\n \n With my head in my hand\n \n I’m lookin’ for a woman\n \n Needs a worried man\n \n Just-a one kind favor I ask you\n \n ’Low me just-a one more chance\n \n \n \n Honey, just allow me one more chance\n \n To ride your aeroplane\n \n Honey, just allow me one more chance\n \n To ride your passenger train\n \n Well, I’ve been lookin’ all over\n \n For a gal like you\n \n I can’t find nobody\n \n So you’ll have to do\n \n Just-a one kind favor I ask you\n \n ’Low me just-a one more chance\n \n \n \n Honey, just allow me one more chance\n \n To get along with you\n \n Honey, just allow me one more chance\n \n Ah’ll do anything with you\n \n Well, lookin’ for a woman\n \n That ain’t got no man\n \n Is just lookin’ for a needle\n \n That is lost in the sand\n \n Just-a one kind favor I ask you\n \n ’Low me just-a one more chance</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Don't think twice, It's All Right</title> <lyrics>It ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe\n \n It don’t matter, anyhow\n \n An’ it ain’t no use to sit and wonder why, babe\n \n If you don’t know by now\n \n When your rooster crows at the break of dawn\n \n Look out your window and I’ll be gone\n \n You’re the reason I’m trav’lin’ on\n \n Don’t think twice, it’s all right\n \n \n \n It ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe\n \n That light I never knowed\n \n An’ it ain’t no use in turnin’ on your light, babe\n \n I’m on the dark side of the road\n \n Still I wish there was somethin’ you would do or say\n \n To try and make me change my mind and stay\n \n We never did too much talkin’ anyway\n \n So don’t think twice, it’s all right\n \n \n \n It ain’t no use in callin’ out my name, gal\n \n Like you never did before\n \n It ain’t no use in callin’ out my name, gal\n \n I can’t hear you anymore\n \n I’m a-thinkin’ and a-wond’rin’ all the way down the road\n \n I once loved a woman, a child I’m told\n \n I give her my heart but she wanted my soul\n \n But don’t think twice, it’s all right\n \n \n \n I’m walkin’ down that long, lonesome road, babe\n \n Where I’m bound, I can’t tell\n \n But goodbye’s too good a word, gal\n \n So I’ll just say fare thee well\n \n I ain’t sayin’ you treated me unkind\n \n You could have done better but I don’t mind\n \n You just kinda wasted my precious time\n \n But don’t think twice, it’s all right</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Seven Curses</title> <lyrics>Old Reilly stole a stallion\n\nBut they caught him and they brought him back\n\nAnd they laid him down on the jailhouse ground\n\nWith an iron chain around his neck\n\n\n\nOld Reilly’s daughter got a message\n\nThat her father was goin’ to hang\n\nShe rode by night and came by morning\n\nWith gold and silver in her hand\n\n\n\nWhen the judge he saw Reilly’s daughter\n\nHis old eyes deepened in his head\n\nSayin’, “Gold will never free your father\n\nThe price, my dear, is you instead”\n\n\n\n“Oh I’m as good as dead,” cried Reilly\n\n“It’s only you that he does crave\n\nAnd my skin will surely crawl if he touches you at all\n\nGet on your horse and ride away”\n\n\n\n“Oh father you will surely die\n\nIf I don’t take the chance to try\n\nAnd pay the price and not take your advice\n\nFor that reason I will have to stay”\n\n\n\nThe gallows shadows shook the evening\n\nIn the night a hound dog bayed\n\nIn the night the grounds were groanin’\n\nIn the night the price was paid\n\n\n\nThe next mornin’ she had awoken\n\nTo know that the judge had never spoken\n\nShe saw that hangin’ branch a-bendin’\n\nShe saw her father’s body broken\n\n\n\nThese be seven curses on a judge so cruel:\n\nThat one doctor will not save him\n\nThat two healers will not heal him\n\nThat three eyes will not see him\n\n\n\nThat four ears will not hear him\n\nThat five walls will not hide him\n\nThat six diggers will not bury him\n\nAnd that seven deaths shall never kill him</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>One Too Many Mornings</title> <lyrics>Down the street the dogs are barkin’\n \n And the day is a-gettin’ dark\n \n As the night comes in a-fallin’\n \n The dogs’ll lose their bark\n \n An’ the silent night will shatter\n \n From the sounds inside my mind\n \n For I’m one too many mornings\n \n And a thousand miles behind\n \n \n \n From the crossroads of my doorstep\n \n My eyes they start to fade\n \n As I turn my head back to the room\n \n Where my love and I have laid\n \n An’ I gaze back to the street\n \n The sidewalk and the sign\n \n And I’m one too many mornings\n \n An’ a thousand miles behind\n \n \n \n It’s a restless hungry feeling\n \n That don’t mean no one no good\n \n When ev’rything I’m a-sayin’\n \n You can say it just as good.\n \n You’re right from your side\n \n I’m right from mine\n \n We’re both just one too many mornings\n \n An’ a thousand miles behind</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Noth Country Blues</title> <lyrics>Come gather ’round friends\n \n And I’ll tell you a tale\n \n Of when the red iron pits ran plenty\n \n But the cardboard filled windows\n \n And old men on the benches\n \n Tell you now that the whole town is empty\n \n \n \n In the north end of town\n \n My own children are grown\n \n But I was raised on the other\n \n In the wee hours of youth\n \n My mother took sick\n \n And I was brought up by my brother\n \n \n \n The iron ore poured\n \n As the years passed the door\n \n The drag lines an’ the shovels they was a-humming\n \n ’Til one day my brother\n \n Failed to come home\n \n The same as my father before him\n \n \n \n Well a long winter’s wait\n \n From the window I watched\n \n My friends they couldn’t have been kinder And my schooling was cut\n \n As I quit in the spring\n \n To marry John Thomas, a miner\n \n \n \n Oh the years passed again\n \n And the givin’ was good\n \n With the lunch bucket filled every season\n \n What with three babies born\n \n The work was cut down\n \n To a half a day’s shift with no reason\n \n \n \n Then the shaft was soon shut\n \n And more work was cut\n \n And the fire in the air, it felt frozen\n \n ’Til a man come to speak\n \n And he said in one week\n \n That number eleven was closin’\n \n \n \n They complained in the East\n \n They are paying too high\n \n They say that your ore ain’t worth digging\n \n That it’s much cheaper down\n \n In the South American towns\n \n Where the miners work almost for nothing\n \n \n \n So the mining gates locked\n \n And the red iron rotted\n \n And the room smelled heavy from drinking\n \n Where the sad, silent song\n \n Made the hour twice as long\n \n As I waited for the sun to go sinking\n \n \n \n I lived by the window\n \n As he talked to himself\n \n This silence of tongues it was building\n \n Then one morning’s wake\n \n The bed it was bare\n \n And I’s left alone with three children\n \n \n \n The summer is gone\n \n The ground’s turning cold\n \n The stores one by one they’re a-foldin’\n \n My children will go\n \n As soon as they grow\n \n Well, there ain’t nothing here now to hold them</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Only a Pawn in Their Game</title> <lyrics>A bullet from the back of a bush took Medgar Evers’ blood\n \n A finger fired the trigger to his name\n \n A handle hid out in the dark\n \n A hand set the spark\n \n Two eyes took the aim\n \n Behind a man’s brain\n \n But he can’t be blamed\n \n He’s only a pawn in their game\n \n \n \n A South politician preaches to the poor white man\n \n “You got more than the blacks, don’t complain\n \n You’re better than them, you been born with white skin,” they explain.\n \n And the Negro’s name\n \n Is used it is plain\n \n For the politician’s gain\n \n As he rises to fame\n \n And the poor white remains\n \n On the caboose of the train\n \n But it ain’t him to blame\n \n He’s only a pawn in their game\n \n \n \n The deputy sheriffs, the soldiers, the governors get paid\n \n And the marshals and cops get the same\n \n But the poor white man’s used in the hands of them all like a tool\n \n He’s taught in his school\n \n From the start by the rule\n \n That the laws are with him\n \n To protect his white skin\n \n To keep up his hate\n \n So he never thinks straight\n \n ’Bout the shape that he’s in\n \n But it ain’t him to blame\n \n He’s only a pawn in their game\n \n \n \n From the poverty shacks, he looks from the cracks to the tracks\n \n And the hoofbeats pound in his brain\n \n And he’s taught how to walk in a pack\n \n Shoot in the back\n \n With his fist in a clinch\n \n To hang and to lynch\n \n To hide ’neath the hood\n \n To kill with no pain\n \n Like a dog on a chain\n \n He ain’t got no name\n \n But it ain’t him to blame\n \n He’s only a pawn in their game.\n \n \n \n Today, Medgar Evers was buried from the bullet he caught\n \n They lowered him down as a king\n \n But when the shadowy sun sets on the one\n \n That fired the gun\n \n He’ll see by his grave\n \n On the stone that remains\n \n Carved next to his name\n \n His epitaph plain:\n \n Only a pawn in their game</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Boots of Spanish Leather</title> <lyrics>Oh, I’m sailin’ away my own true love\n \n I’m sailin’ away in the morning\n \n Is there something I can send you from across the sea\n \n From the place that I’ll be landing?\n \n \n \n No, there’s nothin’ you can send me, my own true love\n \n There’s nothin’ I wish to be ownin’\n \n Just carry yourself back to me unspoiled\n \n From across that lonesome ocean\n \n \n \n Oh, but I just thought you might want something fine\n \n Made of silver or of golden\n \n Either from the mountains of Madrid\n \n Or from the coast of Barcelona\n \n \n \n Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night\n \n And the diamonds from the deepest ocean\n \n I’d forsake them all for your sweet kiss\n \n For that’s all I’m wishin’ to be ownin’\n \n \n \n That I might be gone a long time\n \n And it’s only that I’m askin’\n \n Is there something I can send you to remember me by\n \n To make your time more easy passin’\n \n \n \n Oh, how can, how can you ask me again\n \n It only brings me sorrow\n \n The same thing I want from you today\n \n I would want again tomorrow\n \n \n \n I got a letter on a lonesome day\n \n It was from her ship a-sailin’\n \n Saying I don’t know when I’ll be comin’ back again\n \n It depends on how I’m a-feelin’\n \n \n \n Well, if you, my love, must think that-a-way\n \n I’m sure your mind is roamin’\n \n I’m sure your heart is not with me\n \n But with the country to where you’re goin’\n \n \n \n So take heed, take heed of the western wind\n \n Take heed of the stormy weather\n \n And yes, there’s something you can send back to me\n \n Spanish boots of Spanish leather</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>With God on Our Side</title> <lyrics>Oh my name it is nothin’\n \n My age it means less\n \n The country I come from\n \n Is called the Midwest\n \n I’s taught and brought up there\n \n The laws to abide\n \n And that the land that I live in\n \n Has God on its side\n \n \n \n Oh the history books tell it\n \n They tell it so well\n \n The cavalries charged\n \n The Indians fell\n \n The cavalries charged\n \n The Indians died\n \n Oh the country was young\n \n With God on its side\n \n \n \n Oh the Spanish-American\n \n War had its day\n \n And the Civil War too\n \n Was soon laid away\n \n And the names of the heroes\n \n l’s made to memorize\n \n With guns in their hands\n \n And God on their side\n \n \n \n Oh the First World War, boys\n \n It closed out its fate\n \n The reason for fighting\n \n I never got straight\n \n But I learned to accept it\n \n Accept it with pride\n \n For you don’t count the dead\n \n When God’s on your side\n \n \n \n When the Second World War\n \n Came to an end\n \n We forgave the Germans\n \n And we were friends\n \n Though they murdered six million\n \n In the ovens they fried\n \n The Germans now too\n \n Have God on their side\n \n \n \n I’ve learned to hate Russians\n \n All through my whole life\n \n If another war starts\n \n It’s them we must fight\n \n To hate them and fear them\n \n To run and to hide\n \n And accept it all bravely\n \n With God on my side\n \n \n \n But now we got weapons\n \n Of the chemical dust\n \n If fire them we’re forced to\n \n Then fire them we must\n \n One push of the button\n \n And a shot the world wide\n \n And you never ask questions\n \n When God’s on your side\n \n \n \n Through many dark hour\n \n I’ve been thinkin’ about this\n \n That Jesus Christ\n \n Was betrayed by a kiss\n \n But I can’t think for you\n \n You’ll have to decide\n \n Whether Judas Iscariot\n \n Had God on his side\n \n \n \n So now as I’m leavin’\n \n I’m weary as Hell\n \n The confusion I’m feelin’\n \n Ain’t no tongue can tell\n \n The words fill my head\n \n And fall to the floor\n \n If God’s on our side\n \n He’ll stop the next war</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll</title> <lyrics>William Zanzinger killed poor Hattie Carroll\n \n With a cane that he twirled around his diamond ring finger\n \n At a Baltimore hotel society gath’rin’\n \n And the cops were called in and his weapon took from him\n \n As they rode him in custody down to the station\n \n And booked William Zanzinger for first-degree murder\n \n But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears\n \n Take the rag away from your face\n \n Now ain’t the time for your tears\n \n \n \n William Zanzinger, who at twenty-four years\n \n Owns a tobacco farm of six hundred acres\n \n With rich wealthy parents who provide and protect him\n \n And high office relations in the politics of Maryland\n \n Reacted to his deed with a shrug of his shoulders\n \n And swear words and sneering, and his tongue it was snarling\n \n In a matter of minutes on bail was out walking\n \n But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears\n \n Take the rag away from your face\n \n Now ain’t the time for your tears\n \n \n \n Hattie Carroll was a maid of the kitchen\n \n She was fifty-one years old and gave birth to ten children\n \n Who carried the dishes and took out the garbage\n \n And never sat once at the head of the table\n \n And didn’t even talk to the people at the table\n \n Who just cleaned up all the food from the table\n \n And emptied the ashtrays on a whole other level\n \n Got killed by a blow, lay slain by a cane\n \n That sailed through the air and came down through the room\n \n Doomed and determined to destroy all the gentle\n \n And she never done nothing to William Zanzinger\n \n But you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears\n \n Take the rag away from your face\n \n Now ain’t the time for your tears\n \n \n \n In the courtroom of honor, the judge pounded his gavel\n \n To show that all’s equal and that the courts are on the level\n \n And that the strings in the books ain’t pulled and persuaded\n \n And that even the nobles get properly handled\n \n Once that the cops have chased after and caught ’em\n \n And that the ladder of law has no top and no bottom\n \n Stared at the person who killed for no reason\n \n Who just happened to be feelin’ that way without warnin’\n \n And he spoke through his cloak, most deep and distinguished\n \n And handed out strongly, for penalty and repentance\n \n William Zanzinger with a six-month sentence\n \n Oh, but you who philosophize disgrace and criticize all fears\n \n Bury the rag deep in your face\n \n For now’s the time for your tears</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Mama, You Been On My Mind</title> <lyrics>Perhaps it’s the color of the sun cut flat\n\nAn’ cov’rin’ the crossroads I’m standing at\n\nOr maybe it’s the weather or something like that\n\nBut mama, you been on my mind\n\n\n\nI don’t mean trouble, please don’t put me down or get upset\n\nI am not pleadin’ or sayin’, “I can’t forget”\n\nI do not walk the floor bowed down an’ bent, but yet\n\nMama, you been on my mind\n\n\n\nEven though my mind is hazy an’ my thoughts they might be narrow\n\nWhere you been don’t bother me nor bring me down in sorrow\n\nIt don’t even matter to me where you’re wakin’ up tomorrow\n\nBut mama, you’re just on my mind\n\n\n\nI am not askin’ you to say words like “yes” or “no”\n\nPlease understand me, I got no place for you t’ go\n\nI’m just breathin’ to myself, pretendin’ not that I don’t know\n\nMama, you been on my mind\n\n\n\nWhen you wake up in the mornin’, baby, look inside your mirror\n\nYou know I won’t be next to you, you know I won’t be near\n\nI’d just be curious to know if you can see yourself as clear\n\nAs someone who has had you on his mind</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>All I Really Want to Do</title> <lyrics>I ain’t lookin’ to compete with you\n \n Beat or cheat or mistreat you\n \n Simplify you, classify you\n \n Deny, defy or crucify you\n \n All I really want to do\n \n Is, baby, be friends with you\n \n \n \n No, and I ain’t lookin’ to fight with you\n \n Frighten you or tighten you\n \n Drag you down or drain you down\n \n Chain you down or bring you down\n \n All I really want to do\n \n Is, baby, be friends with you\n \n \n \n I ain’t lookin’ to block you up\n \n Shock or knock or lock you up\n \n Analyze you, categorize you\n \n Finalize you or advertise you\n \n All I really want to do\n \n Is, baby, be friends with you\n \n \n \n I don’t want to straight-face you\n \n Race or chase you, track or trace you\n \n Or disgrace you or displace you\n \n Or define you or confine you\n \n All I really want to do\n \n Is, baby, be friends with you\n \n \n \n I don’t want to meet your kin\n \n Make you spin or do you in\n \n Or select you or dissect you\n \n Or inspect you or reject you\n \n All I really want to do\n \n Is, baby, be friends with you\n \n \n \n I don’t want to fake you out\n \n Take or shake or forsake you out\n \n I ain’t lookin’ for you to feel like me\n \n See like me or be like me\n \n All I really want to do\n \n Is, baby, be friends with you</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>When the Ship Comes in</title> <lyrics>Oh the time will come up\n \n When the winds will stop\n \n And the breeze will cease to be breathin’\n \n Like the stillness in the wind\n \n ’Fore the hurricane begins\n \n The hour when the ship comes in\n \n \n \n Oh the seas will split\n \n And the ship will hit\n \n And the sands on the shoreline will be shaking\n \n Then the tide will sound\n \n And the wind will pound\n \n And the morning will be breaking\n \n \n \n Oh the fishes will laugh\n \n As they swim out of the path\n \n And the seagulls they’ll be smiling\n \n And the rocks on the sand\n \n Will proudly stand\n \n The hour that the ship comes in\n \n \n \n And the words that are used\n \n For to get the ship confused\n \n Will not be understood as they’re spoken\n \n For the chains of the sea\n \n Will have busted in the night\n \n And will be buried at the bottom of the ocean\n \n \n \n A song will lift\n \n As the mainsail shifts\n \n And the boat drifts on to the shoreline\n \n And the sun will respect\n \n Every face on the deck\n \n The hour that the ship comes in\n \n \n \n Then the sands will roll\n \n Out a carpet of gold\n \n For your weary toes to be a-touchin’\n \n And the ship’s wise men\n \n Will remind you once again\n \n That the whole wide world is watchin’\n \n \n \n Oh the foes will rise\n \n With the sleep still in their eyes\n \n And they’ll jerk from their beds and think they’re dreamin’\n \n But they’ll pinch themselves and squeal\n \n And know that it’s for real\n \n The hour when the ship comes in\n \n \n \n Then they’ll raise their hands\n \n Sayin’ we’ll meet all your demands\n \n But we’ll shout from the bow your days are numbered\n \n And like Pharoah’s tribe\n \n They’ll be drownded in the tide\n \n And like Goliath, they’ll be conquered</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Ballad of Hollis Brown</title> <lyrics>Hollis Brown\n \n He lived on the outside of town\n \n Hollis Brown\n \n He lived on the outside of town\n \n With his wife and five children\n \n And his cabin fallin’ down\n \n \n \n You looked for work and money\n \n And you walked a rugged mile\n \n You looked for work and money\n \n And you walked a rugged mile\n \n Your children are so hungry\n \n That they don’t know how to smile\n \n \n \n Your baby’s eyes look crazy\n \n They’re a-tuggin’ at your sleeve\n \n Your baby’s eyes look crazy\n \n They’re a-tuggin’ at your sleeve\n \n You walk the floor and wonder why\n \n With every breath you breathe\n \n \n \n The rats have got your flour\n \n Bad blood it got your mare\n \n The rats have got your flour\n \n Bad blood it got your mare\n \n If there’s anyone that knows\n \n Is there anyone that cares?\n \n \n \n You prayed to the Lord above\n \n Oh please send you a friend\n \n You prayed to the Lord above\n \n Oh please send you a friend\n \n Your empty pockets tell yuh\n \n That you ain’t a-got no friend\n \n \n \n Your babies are crying louder\n \n It’s pounding on your brain\n \n Your babies are crying louder now\n \n It’s pounding on your brain\n \n Your wife’s screams are stabbin’ you\n \n Like the dirty drivin’ rain\n \n \n \n Your grass it is turning black\n \n There’s no water in your well\n \n Your grass is turning black\n \n There’s no water in your well\n \n You spent your last lone dollar\n \n On seven shotgun shells\n \n \n \n Way out in the wilderness\n \n A cold coyote calls\n \n Way out in the wilderness\n \n A cold coyote calls\n \n Your eyes fix on the shotgun\n \n That’s hangin’ on the wall\n \n \n \n Your brain is a-bleedin’\n \n And your legs can’t seem to stand\n \n Your brain is a-bleedin’\n \n And your legs can’t seem to stand\n \n Your eyes fix on the shotgun\n \n That you’re holdin’ in your hand\n \n \n \n There’s seven breezes a-blowin’\n \n All around the cabin door\n \n There’s seven breezes a-blowin’\n \n All around the cabin door\n \n Seven shots ring out\n \n Like the ocean’s pounding roar\n \n \n \n There’s seven people dead\n \n On a South Dakota farm\n \n There’s seven people dead\n \n On a South Dakota farm\n \n Somewhere in the distance\n \n There’s seven new people born</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>It Ain't Me, Babe</title> <lyrics>Go ’way from my window\n \n Leave at your own chosen speed\n \n I’m not the one you want, babe\n \n I’m not the one you need\n \n You say you’re lookin’ for someone\n \n Never weak but always strong\n \n To protect you an’ defend you\n \n Whether you are right or wrong\n \n Someone to open each and every door\n \n But it ain’t me, babe\n \n No, no, no, it ain’t me, babe\n \n It ain’t me you’re lookin’ for, babe\n \n \n \n Go lightly from the ledge, babe\n \n Go lightly on the ground\n \n I’m not the one you want, babe\n \n I will only let you down\n \n You say you’re lookin’ for someone\n \n Who will promise never to part\n \n Someone to close his eyes for you\n \n Someone to close his heart\n \n Someone who will die for you an’ more\n \n But it ain’t me, babe\n \n No, no, no, it ain’t me, babe\n \n It ain’t me you’re lookin’ for, babe\n \n \n \n Go melt back into the night, babe\n \n Everything inside is made of stone\n \n There’s nothing in here moving\n \n An’ anyway I’m not alone\n \n You say you’re lookin' for someone\n \n Who’ll pick you up each time you fall\n \n To gather flowers constantly\n \n An’ to come each time you call\n \n A lover for your life an’ nothing more\n \n But it ain’t me, babe\n \n No, no, no, it ain’t me, babe\n \n It ain’t me you’re lookin’ for, babe</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Chimes of Freedom</title> <lyrics>Far between sundown’s finish an’ midnight’s broken toll\n \n We ducked inside the doorway, thunder crashing\n \n As majestic bells of bolts struck shadows in the sounds\n \n Seeming to be the chimes of freedom flashing\n \n Flashing for the warriors whose strength is not to fight\n \n Flashing for the refugees on the unarmed road of flight\n \n An’ for each an’ ev’ry underdog soldier in the night\n \n An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing\n \n \n \n In the city’s melted furnace, unexpectedly we watched\n \n With faces hidden while the walls were tightening\n \n As the echo of the wedding bells before the blowin’ rain\n \n Dissolved into the bells of the lightning\n \n Tolling for the rebel, tolling for the rake\n \n Tolling for the luckless, the abandoned an’ forsaked\n \n Tolling for the outcast, burnin’ constantly at stake\n \n An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing\n \n \n \n Through the mad mystic hammering of the wild ripping hail\n \n The sky cracked its poems in naked wonder\n \n That the clinging of the church bells blew far into the breeze\n \n Leaving only bells of lightning and its thunder\n \n Striking for the gentle, striking for the kind\n \n Striking for the guardians and protectors of the mind\n \n An’ the unpawned painter behind beyond his rightful time\n \n An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing\n \n \n \n Through the wild cathedral evening the rain unraveled tales\n \n For the disrobed faceless forms of no position\n \n Tolling for the tongues with no place to bring their thoughts\n \n All down in taken-for-granted situations\n \n Tolling for the deaf an’ blind, tolling for the mute\n \n Tolling for the mistreated, mateless mother, the mistitled prostitute\n \n For the misdemeanor outlaw, chased an’ cheated by pursuit\n \n An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing\n \n \n \n Even though a cloud’s white curtain in a far-off corner flashed\n \n An’ the hypnotic splattered mist was slowly lifting\n \n Electric light still struck like arrows, fired but for the ones\n \n Condemned to drift or else be kept from drifting\n \n Tolling for the searching ones, on their speechless, seeking trail\n \n For the lonesome-hearted lovers with too personal a tale\n \n An’ for each unharmful, gentle soul misplaced inside a jail\n \n An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing\n \n \n \n Starry-eyed an’ laughing as I recall when we were caught\n \n Trapped by no track of hours for they hanged suspended\n \n As we listened one last time an’ we watched with one last look\n \n Spellbound an’ swallowed ’til the tolling ended\n \n Tolling for the aching ones whose wounds cannot be nursed\n \n For the countless confused, accused, misused, strung-out ones an’ worse\n \n An’ for every hung-up person in the whole wide universe\n \n An’ we gazed upon the chimes of freedom flashing</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Restless Farewell</title> <lyrics>Oh all the money that in my whole life I did spend\n \n Be it mine right or wrongfully\n \n I let it slip gladly past the hands of my friends\n \n To tie up the time most forcefully\n \n But the bottles are done\n \n We’ve killed each one\n \n And the table’s full and overflowed\n \n And the corner sign\n \n Says it’s closing time\n \n So I’ll bid farewell and be down the road\n \n \n \n Oh ev’ry girl that ever I’ve touched\n \n I did not do it harmfully\n \n And ev’ry girl that ever I’ve hurt\n \n I did not do it knowin’ly\n \n But to remain as friends\n \n And make amends\n \n You need the time and stay behind\n \n And since my feet are now fast\n \n And point away from the past\n \n I’ll bid farewell and be down the line\n \n \n \n Oh ev’ry foe that ever I faced\n \n The cause was there before we came\n \n And ev’ry cause that ever I fought\n \n I fought it full without regret or shame\n \n But the dark does die\n \n As the curtain is drawn and somebody’s eyes\n \n Must meet the dawn\n \n And if I see the day\n \n I’d only have to stay\n \n So I’ll bid farewell in the night and be gone\n \n \n \n Oh, ev’ry thought that’s strung a knot in my mind\n \n I might go insane if it couldn’t be sprung\n \n But it’s not to stand naked under unknowin’ eyes\n \n It’s for myself and my friends my stories are sung\n \n But the time ain’t tall, yet on time you depend\n \n And no word is possessed by no special friend\n \n And though the line is cut\n \n It ain’t quite the end\n \n I’ll just bid farewell till we meet again\n \n \n \n Oh a false clock tries to tick out my time\n \n To disgrace, distract, and bother me\n \n And the dirt of gossip blows into my face\n \n And the dust of rumors covers me\n \n But if the arrow is straight\n \n And the point is slick\n \n It can pierce through dust no matter how thick\n \n So I’ll make my stand\n \n And remain as I am\n \n And bid farewell and not give a damn</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Black Crow Blues</title> <lyrics>I woke in the mornin’, wand’rin’\n \n Wasted and worn out\n \n I woke in the mornin’, wand’rin’\n \n Wasted and worn out\n \n Wishin’ my long-lost lover\n \n Will walk to me, talk to me\n \n Tell me what it’s all about\n \n \n \n I was standin’ at the side road\n \n Listenin’ to the billboard knock\n \n Standin’ at the side road\n \n Listenin’ to the billboard knock\n \n Well, my wrist was empty\n \n But my nerves were kickin’\n \n Tickin’ like a clock\n \n \n \n If I got anything you need, babe\n \n Let me tell you in front\n \n If I got anything you need, babe\n \n Let me tell you in front\n \n You can come to me sometime\n \n Night time, day time\n \n Any time you want\n \n \n \n Sometimes I’m thinkin’ I’m\n \n Too high to fall\n \n Sometimes I’m thinkin’ I’m\n \n Too high to fall\n \n Other times I’m thinkin’ I’m\n \n So low I don’t know\n \n If I can come up at all\n \n \n \n Black crows in the meadow\n \n Across a broad highway\n \n Black crows in the meadow\n \n Across a broad highway\n \n Though it’s funny, honey\n \n I just don’t feel much like a\n \n Scarecrow today</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Spanish Harlem Incident</title> <lyrics>Gypsy gal, the hands of Harlem\n \n Cannot hold you to its heat\n \n Your temperature’s too hot for taming\n \n Your flaming feet burn up the street\n \n I am homeless, come and take me\n \n Into reach of your rattling drums\n \n Let me know, babe, about my fortune\n \n Down along my restless palms\n \n \n \n Gypsy gal, you got me swallowed\n \n I have fallen far beneath\n \n Your pearly eyes, so fast an’ slashing\n \n An’ your flashing diamond teeth\n \n The night is pitch black, come an’ make my\n \n Pale face fit into place, ah, please!\n \n Let me know, babe, I’m nearly drowning\n \n If it’s you my lifelines trace\n \n \n \n I been wond’rin’ all about me\n \n Ever since I seen you there\n \n On the cliffs of your wildcat charms I’m riding\n \n I know I’m ’round you but I don’t know where\n \n You have slayed me, you have made me\n \n I got to laugh halfways off my heels\n \n I got to know, babe, will you surround me?\n \n So I can tell if I’m really real</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Ballad in Plain D</title> <lyrics>I once loved a girl, her skin it was bronze\n \n With the innocence of a lamb, she was gentle like a fawn\n \n I courted her proudly but now she is gone\n \n Gone as the season she’s taken\n \n \n \n Through young summer’s breeze, I stole her away\n \n From her mother and sister, though close did they stay\n \n Each one of them suffering from the failures of their day\n \n With strings of guilt they tried hard to guide us\n \n \n \n Of the two sisters, I loved the young\n \n With sensitive instincts, she was the creative one\n \n The constant scapegoat, she was easily undone\n \n By the jealousy of others around her\n \n \n \n For her parasite sister, I had no respect\n \n Bound by her boredom, her pride to protect\n \n Countless visions of the other she’d reflect\n \n As a crutch for her scenes and her society\n \n \n \n Myself, for what I did, I cannot be excused\n \n The changes I was going through can’t even be used\n \n For the lies that I told her in hopes not to lose\n \n The could-be dream-lover of my lifetime\n \n \n \n With unknown consciousness, I possessed in my grip\n \n A magnificent mantelpiece, though its heart being chipped\n \n Noticing not that I’d already slipped\n \n To a sin of love’s false security\n \n \n \n From silhouetted anger to manufactured peace\n \n Answers of emptiness, voice vacancies\n \n Till the tombstones of damage read me no questions but, “Please\n \n What’s wrong and what’s exactly the matter?”\n \n \n \n And so it did happen like it could have been foreseen\n \n The timeless explosion of fantasy’s dream\n \n At the peak of the night, the king and the queen\n \n Tumbled all down into pieces\n \n \n \n “The tragic figure!” her sister did shout\n \n “Leave her alone, God damn you, get out!”\n \n And I in my armor, turning about\n \n And nailing her to the ruins of her pettiness\n \n \n \n Beneath a bare lightbulb the plaster did pound\n \n Her sister and I in a screaming battleground\n \n And she in between, the victim of sound\n \n Soon shattered as a child ’neath her shadows\n \n \n \n All is gone, all is gone, admit it, take flight\n \n I gagged twice, doubled, tears blinding my sight\n \n My mind it was mangled, I ran into the night\n \n Leaving all of love’s ashes behind me\n \n \n \n The wind knocks my window, the room it is wet\n \n The words to say I’m sorry, I haven’t found yet\n \n I think of her often and hope whoever she’s met\n \n Will be fully aware of how precious she is\n \n \n \n Ah, my friends from the prison, they ask unto me\n \n “How good, how good does it feel to be free?”\n \n And I answer them most mysteriously\n \n “Are birds free from the chains of the skyway?”</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>I Shall Be Free No. 10</title> <lyrics>I’m just average, common too\n \n I’m just like him, the same as you\n \n I’m everybody’s brother and son\n \n I ain’t different from anyone\n \n It ain’t no use a-talking to me\n \n It’s just the same as talking to you\n \n \n \n I was shadow-boxing earlier in the day\n \n I figured I was ready for Cassius Clay\n \n I said “Fee, fie, fo, fum, Cassius Clay, here I come\n \n 26, 27, 28, 29, I’m gonna make your face look just like mine\n \n Five, four, three, two, one, Cassius Clay you’d better run\n \n 99, 100, 101, 102, your ma won’t even recognize you\n \n 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, gonna knock him clean right out of his spleen”\n \n \n \n Well, I don’t know, but I’ve been told\n \n The streets in heaven are lined with gold\n \n I ask you how things could get much worse\n \n If the Russians happen to get up there first\n \n Wowee! pretty scary!\n \n \n \n Now, I’m liberal, but to a degree\n \n I want ev’rybody to be free\n \n But if you think that I’ll let Barry Goldwater\n \n Move in next door and marry my daughter\n \n You must think I’m crazy!\n \n I wouldn’t let him do it for all the farms in Cuba\n \n \n \n Well, I set my monkey on the log\n \n And ordered him to do the Dog\n \n He wagged his tail and shook his head\n \n And he went and did the Cat instead\n \n He’s a weird monkey, very funky\n \n \n \n I sat with my high-heeled sneakers on\n \n Waiting to play tennis in the noonday sun\n \n I had my white shorts rolled up past my waist\n \n And my wig-hat was falling in my face\n \n But they wouldn’t let me on the tennis court\n \n \n \n I got a woman, she’s so mean\n \n She sticks my boots in the washing machine\n \n Sticks me with buckshot when I’m nude\n \n Puts bubblegum in my food\n \n She’s funny, wants my money, calls me “honey”\n \n \n \n Now I got a friend who spends his life\n \n Stabbing my picture with a bowie knife\n \n Dreams of strangling me with a scarf\n \n When my name comes up he pretends to barf\n \n I’ve got a million friends!\n \n \n \n Now they asked me to read a poem\n \n At the sorority sisters’ home\n \n I got knocked down and my head was swimmin’\n \n I wound up with the Dean of Women\n \n Yippee! I’m a poet, and I know it\n \n Hope I don’t blow it\n \n \n \n I’m gonna grow my hair down to my feet so strange\n \n So I look like a walking mountain range\n \n And I’m gonna ride into Omaha on a horse\n \n Out to the country club and the golf course\n \n Carry The New York Times, shoot a few holes, blow their minds\n \n \n \n Now you’re probably wondering by now\n \n Just what this song is all about\n \n What’s probably got you baffled more\n \n Is what this thing here is for\n \n It’s nothing\n \n It’s something I learned over in England</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>To Ramona</title> <lyrics>Ramona\n \n Come closer\n \n Shut softly your watery eyes\n \n The pangs of your sadness\n \n Shall pass as your senses will rise\n \n The flowers of the city\n \n Though breathlike\n \n Get deathlike at times\n \n And there’s no use in tryin’\n \n T’ deal with the dyin’\n \n Though I cannot explain that in lines\n \n \n \n Your cracked country lips\n \n I still wish to kiss\n \n As to be under the strength of your skin\n \n Your magnetic movements\n \n Still capture the minutes I’m in\n \n But it grieves my heart, love\n \n To see you tryin’ to be a part of\n \n A world that just don’t exist\n \n It’s all just a dream, babe\n \n A vacuum, a scheme, babe\n \n That sucks you into feelin’ like this\n \n \n \n I can see that your head\n \n Has been twisted and fed\n \n By worthless foam from the mouth\n \n I can tell you are torn\n \n Between stayin’ and returnin’\n \n On back to the South\n \n You’ve been fooled into thinking\n \n That the finishin’ end is at hand\n \n Yet there’s no one to beat you\n \n No one t’ defeat you\n \n ’Cept the thoughts of yourself feeling bad\n \n \n \n I’ve heard you say many times\n \n That you’re better ’n no one\n \n And no one is better ’n you\n \n If you really believe that\n \n You know you got\n \n Nothing to win and nothing to lose\n \n From fixtures and forces and friends\n \n Your sorrow does stem\n \n That hype you and type you\n \n Making you feel\n \n That you must be exactly like them\n \n \n \n I’d forever talk to you\n \n But soon my words\n \n They would turn into a meaningless ring\n \n For deep in my heart\n \n I know there is no help I can bring\n \n Everything passes\n \n Everything changes\n \n Just do what you think you should do\n \n And someday maybe\n \n Who knows, baby\n \n I’ll come and be cryin’ to you</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Motorpsycho Nightmare</title> <lyrics>I pounded on a farmhouse\n \n Lookin’ for a place to stay\n \n I was mighty, mighty tired\n \n I had come a long, long way\n \n I said, “Hey, hey, in there\n \n Is there anybody home?”\n \n I was standin’ on the steps\n \n Feelin’ most alone\n \n Well, out comes a farmer\n \n He must have thought that I was nuts\n \n He immediately looked at me\n \n And stuck a gun into my guts\n \n \n \n I fell down\n \n To my bended knees\n \n Saying, “I dig farmers\n \n Don’t shoot me, please!”\n \n He cocked his rifle\n \n And began to shout\n \n “You’re that travelin’ salesman\n \n That I have heard about”\n \n I said, “No! No! No!\n \n I’m a doctor and it’s true\n \n I’m a clean-cut kid\n \n And I been to college, too”\n \n \n \n Then in comes his daughter\n \n Whose name was Rita\n \n She looked like she stepped out of\n \n La Dolce Vita\n \n I immediately tried to cool it\n \n With her dad\n \n And told him what a\n \n Nice, pretty farm he had\n \n He said, “What do doctors\n \n Know about farms, pray tell?”\n \n I said, “I was born\n \n At the bottom of a wishing well”\n \n \n \n Well, by the dirt ’neath my nails\n \n I guess he knew I wouldn’t lie\n \n “I guess you’re tired”\n \n He said, kinda sly\n \n I said, “Yes, ten thousand miles\n \n Today I drove”\n \n He said, “I got a bed for you\n \n Underneath the stove\n \n Just one condition\n \n And you go to sleep right now\n \n That you don’t touch my daughter\n \n And in the morning, milk the cow”\n \n \n \n I was sleepin’ like a rat\n \n When I heard something jerkin’\n \n There stood Rita\n \n Lookin’ just like Tony Perkins\n \n She said, “Would you like to take a shower?\n \n I’ll show you up to the door”\n \n I said, “Oh, no! no!\n \n I’ve been through this before”\n \n I knew I had to split\n \n But I didn’t know how\n \n When she said\n \n “Would you like to take that shower, now?”\n \n \n \n Well, I couldn’t leave\n \n Unless the old man chased me out\n \n ’Cause I’d already promised\n \n That I’d milk his cows\n \n I had to say something\n \n To strike him very weird\n \n So I yelled out\n \n “I like Fidel Castro and his beard”\n \n Rita looked offended\n \n But she got out of the way\n \n As he came charging down the stairs\n \n Sayin’, “What’s that I heard you say?”\n \n \n \n I said, “I like Fidel Castro\n \n I think you heard me right”\n \n And ducked as he swung\n \n At me with all his might\n \n Rita mumbled something\n \n ’Bout her mother on the hill\n \n As his fist hit the icebox\n \n He said he’s going to kill me\n \n If I don’t get out the door\n \n In two seconds flat\n \n “You unpatriotic\n \n Rotten doctor Commie rat”\n \n \n \n Well, he threw a Reader’s Digest\n \n At my head and I did run\n \n I did a somersault\n \n As I seen him get his gun\n \n And crashed through the window\n \n At a hundred miles an hour\n \n And landed fully blast\n \n In his garden flowers\n \n Rita said, “Come back!”\n \n As he started to load\n \n The sun was comin’ up\n \n And I was runnin’ down the road\n \n \n \n Well, I don’t figure I’ll be back\n \n There for a spell\n \n Even though Rita moved away\n \n And got a job in a motel\n \n He still waits for me\n \n Constant, on the sly\n \n He wants to turn me in\n \n To the F.B.I.\n \n Me, I romp and stomp\n \n Thankful as I romp\n \n Without freedom of speech\n \n I might be in the swamp</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>I Don't Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met)</title> <lyrics>I can’t understand\n \n She let go of my hand\n \n An’ left me here facing the wall\n \n I’d sure like t’ know\n \n Why she did go\n \n But I can’t get close t’ her at all\n \n Though we kissed through the wild blazing nighttime\n \n She said she would never forget\n \n But now mornin’s clear\n \n It’s like I ain’t here\n \n She just acts like we never have met\n \n \n \n It’s all new t’ me\n \n Like some mystery\n \n It could even be like a myth\n \n Yet it’s hard t’ think on\n \n That she’s the same one\n \n That last night I was with\n \n From darkness, dreams’re deserted\n \n Am I still dreamin’ yet?\n \n I wish she’d unlock\n \n Her voice once an’ talk\n \n ’Stead of acting like we never have met\n \n \n \n If she ain’t feelin’ well\n \n Then why don’t she tell\n \n ’Stead of turnin’ her back t’ my face?\n \n Without any doubt\n \n She seems too far out\n \n For me t’ return t’ her chase\n \n Though the night ran swirling an’ whirling\n \n I remember her whispering yet\n \n But evidently she don’t\n \n An’ evidently she won’t\n \n She just acts like we never have met\n \n \n \n If I didn’t have t’ guess\n \n I’d gladly confess\n \n T’ anything I might’ve tried\n \n If I was with ’er too long\n \n Or have done something wrong\n \n I wish she’d tell me what it is, I’ll run an’ hide\n \n Though her skirt it swayed as a guitar played\n \n Her mouth was watery and wet\n \n But now something has changed\n \n For she ain’t the same\n \n She just acts like we never have met\n \n \n \n I’m leavin’ today\n \n I’ll be on my way\n \n Of this I can’t say very much\n \n But if you want me to\n \n I can be just like you\n \n An’ pretend that we never have touched\n \n An’ if anybody asks me\n \n “Is it easy to forget?”\n \n I’ll say, “It’s easily done\n \n You just pick anyone\n \n An’ pretend that you never have met!”</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>The Times They Are A-Changin'</title> <lyrics>Come gather ’round people\n \n Wherever you roam\n \n And admit that the waters\n \n Around you have grown\n \n And accept it that soon\n \n You’ll be drenched to the bone\n \n If your time to you is worth savin’\n \n Then you better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone\n \n For the times they are a-changin’\n \n \n \n Come writers and critics\n \n Who prophesize with your pen\n \n And keep your eyes wide\n \n The chance won’t come again\n \n And don’t speak too soon\n \n For the wheel’s still in spin\n \n And there’s no tellin’ who that it’s namin’\n \n For the loser now will be later to win\n \n For the times they are a-changin’\n \n \n \n Come senators, congressmen\n \n Please heed the call\n \n Don’t stand in the doorway\n \n Don’t block up the hall\n \n For he that gets hurt\n \n Will be he who has stalled\n \n There’s a battle outside and it is ragin’\n \n It’ll soon shake your windows and rattle your walls\n \n For the times they are a-changin’\n \n \n \n Come mothers and fathers\n \n Throughout the land\n \n And don’t criticize\n \n What you can’t understand\n \n Your sons and your daughters\n \n Are beyond your command\n \n Your old road is rapidly agin’\n \n Please get out of the new one if you can’t lend your hand\n \n For the times they are a-changin’\n \n \n \n The line it is drawn\n \n The curse it is cast\n \n The slow one now\n \n Will later be fast\n \n As the present now\n \n Will later be past\n \n The order is rapidly fadin’\n \n And the first one now will later be last\n \n For the times they are a-changin’</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Ballad Of a Thin Man</title> <lyrics>You walk into the room\n \n With your pencil in your hand\n \n You see somebody naked\n \n And you say, “Who is that man?”\n \n You try so hard\n \n But you don’t understand\n \n Just what you’ll say\n \n When you get home\n \n \n \n Because something is happening here\n \n But you don’t know what it is\n \n Do you, Mister Jones?\n \n \n \n You raise up your head\n \n And you ask, “Is this where it is?”\n \n And somebody points to you and says\n \n “It’s his”\n \n And you say, “What’s mine?”\n \n And somebody else says, “Where what is?”\n \n And you say, “Oh my God\n \n Am I here all alone?”\n \n \n \n Because something is happening here\n \n But you don’t know what it is\n \n Do you, Mister Jones?\n \n \n \n You hand in your ticket\n \n And you go watch the geek\n \n Who immediately walks up to you\n \n When he hears you speak\n \n And says, “How does it feel\n \n To be such a freak?”\n \n And you say, “Impossible”\n \n As he hands you a bone\n \n \n \n Because something is happening here\n \n But you don’t know what it is\n \n Do you, Mister Jones?\n \n \n \n You have many contacts\n \n Among the lumberjacks\n \n To get you facts\n \n When someone attacks your imagination\n \n But nobody has any respect\n \n Anyway they already expect you\n \n To just give a check\n \n To tax-deductible charity organizations\n \n \n \n You’ve been with the professors\n \n And they’ve all liked your looks\n \n With great lawyers you have\n \n Discussed lepers and crooks\n \n You’ve been through all of\n \n F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books\n \n You’re very well read\n \n It’s well known\n \n \n \n Because something is happening here\n \n But you don’t know what it is\n \n Do you, Mister Jones?\n \n \n \n Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you\n \n And then he kneels\n \n He crosses himself\n \n And then he clicks his high heels\n \n And without further notice\n \n He asks you how it feels\n \n And he says, “Here is your throat back\n \n Thanks for the loan”\n \n \n \n Because something is happening here\n \n But you don’t know what it is\n \n Do you, Mister Jones?\n \n \n \n Now you see this one-eyed midget\n \n Shouting the word “NOW”\n \n And you say, “For what reason?”\n \n And he says, “How?”\n \n And you say, “What does this mean?”\n \n And he screams back, “You’re a cow\n \n Give me some milk\n \n Or else go home”\n \n \n \n Because something is happening here\n \n But you don’t know what it is\n \n Do you, Mister Jones?\n \n \n \n Well, you walk into the room\n \n Like a camel and then you frown\n \n You put your eyes in your pocket\n \n And your nose on the ground\n \n There ought to be a law\n \n Against you comin’ around\n \n You should be made\n \n To wear earphones\n \n \n \n Because something is happening here\n \n But you don’t know what it is\n \n Do you, Mister Jones?</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Outlaw Blues</title> <lyrics>Ain’t it hard to stumble\n \n And land in some funny lagoon?\n \n Ain’t it hard to stumble\n \n And land in some muddy lagoon?\n \n Especially when it’s nine below zero\n \n And three o’clock in the afternoon.\n \n \n \n Ain’t gonna hang no picture\n \n Ain’t gonna hang no picture frame\n \n Ain’t gonna hang no picture\n \n Ain’t gonna hang no picture frame\n \n Well, I might look like Robert Ford\n \n But I feel just like a Jesse James\n \n \n \n Well, I wish I was on some\n \n Australian mountain range\n \n Oh, I wish I was on some\n \n Australian mountain range\n \n I got no reason to be there, but I\n \n Imagine it would be some kind of change\n \n \n \n I got my dark sunglasses\n \n I got for good luck my black tooth\n \n I got my dark sunglasses\n \n I’m carryin’ for good luck my black tooth\n \n Don’t ask me nothin’ about nothin’\n \n I just might tell you the truth\n \n \n \n I got a woman in Jackson\n \n I ain’t gonna say her name\n \n I got a woman in Jackson\n \n I ain’t gonna say her name\n \n She’s a brown-skin woman, but I\n \n Love her just the same</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Love Minus Zero/ No Limit</title> <lyrics>My love she speaks like silence\n \n Without ideals or violence\n \n She doesn’t have to say she’s faithful\n \n Yet she’s true, like ice, like fire\n \n People carry roses\n \n Make promises by the hours\n \n My love she laughs like the flowers\n \n Valentines can’t buy her\n \n \n \n In the dime stores and bus stations\n \n People talk of situations\n \n Read books, repeat quotations\n \n Draw conclusions on the wall\n \n Some speak of the future\n \n My love she speaks softly\n \n She knows there’s no success like failure\n \n And that failure’s no success at all\n \n \n \n The cloak and dagger dangles\n \n Madams light the candles\n \n In ceremonies of the horsemen\n \n Even the pawn must hold a grudge\n \n Statues made of matchsticks\n \n Crumble into one another\n \n My love winks, she does not bother\n \n She knows too much to argue or to judge\n \n \n \n The bridge at midnight trembles\n \n The country doctor rambles\n \n Bankers’ nieces seek perfection\n \n Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring\n \n The wind howls like a hammer\n \n The night blows cold and rainy\n \n My love she’s like some raven\n \n At my window with a broken wing</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>She Belongs to Me</title> <lyrics>She’s got everything she needs\n \n She’s an artist, she don’t look back\n \n She’s got everything she needs\n \n She’s an artist, she don’t look back\n \n She can take the dark out of the nighttime\n \n And paint the daytime black\n \n \n \n You will start out standing\n \n Proud to steal her anything she sees\n \n You will start out standing\n \n Proud to steal her anything she sees\n \n But you will wind up peeking through her keyhole\n \n Down upon your knees\n \n \n \n She never stumbles\n \n She’s got no place to fall\n \n She never stumbles\n \n She’s got no place to fall\n \n She’s nobody’s child\n \n The Law can’t touch her at all\n \n \n \n She wears an Egyptian ring\n \n That sparkles before she speaks\n \n She wears an Egyptian ring\n \n That sparkles before she speaks\n \n She’s a hypnotist collector\n \n You are a walking antique\n \n \n \n Bow down to her on Sunday\n \n Salute her when her birthday comes\n \n Bow down to her on Sunday\n \n Salute her when her birthday comes\n \n For Halloween give her a trumpet\n \n And for Christmas, buy her a drum</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Subterranean Homesick Blues</title> <lyrics>Johnny’s in the basement\n \n Mixing up the medicine\n \n I’m on the pavement\n \n Thinking about the government\n \n The man in the trench coat\n \n Badge out, laid off\n \n Says he’s got a bad cough\n \n Wants to get it paid off\n \n Look out kid\n \n It’s somethin’ you did\n \n God knows when\n \n But you’re doin’ it again\n \n You better duck down the alley way\n \n Lookin’ for a new friend\n \n The man in the coon-skin cap\n \n By the big pen\n \n Wants eleven dollar bills\n \n You only got ten\n \n \n \n Maggie comes fleet foot\n \n Face full of black soot\n \n Talkin’ that the heat put\n \n Plants in the bed but\n \n The phone’s tapped anyway\n \n Maggie says that many say\n \n They must bust in early May\n \n Orders from the D.A.\n \n Look out kid\n \n Don’t matter what you did\n \n Walk on your tiptoes\n \n Don’t try “No-Doz”\n \n Better stay away from those\n \n That carry around a fire hose\n \n Keep a clean nose\n \n Watch the plain clothes\n \n You don’t need a weatherman\n \n To know which way the wind blows\n \n \n \n Get sick, get well\n \n Hang around a ink well\n \n Ring bell, hard to tell\n \n If anything is goin’ to sell\n \n Try hard, get barred\n \n Get back, write braille\n \n Get jailed, jump bail\n \n Join the army, if you fail\n \n Look out kid\n \n You’re gonna get hit\n \n But users, cheaters\n \n Six-time losers\n \n Hang around the theaters\n \n Girl by the whirlpool\n \n Lookin’ for a new fool\n \n Don’t follow leaders\n \n Watch the parkin’ meters\n \n \n \n Ah get born, keep warm\n \n Short pants, romance, learn to dance\n \n Get dressed, get blessed\n \n Try to be a success\n \n Please her, please him, buy gifts\n \n Don’t steal, don’t lift\n \n Twenty years of schoolin’\n \n And they put you on the day shift\n \n Look out kid\n \n They keep it all hid\n \n Better jump down a manhole\n \n Light yourself a candle\n \n Don’t wear sandals\n \n Try to avoid the scandals\n \n Don’t wanna be a bum\n \n You better chew gum\n \n The pump don’t work\n \n ’Cause the vandals took the handles</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Destolatian Row</title> <lyrics>They’re selling postcards of the hanging\n \n They’re painting the passports brown\n \n The beauty parlor is filled with sailors\n \n The circus is in town\n \n Here comes the blind commissioner\n \n They’ve got him in a trance\n \n One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker\n \n The other is in his pants\n \n And the riot squad they’re restless\n \n They need somewhere to go\n \n As Lady and I look out tonight\n \n From Desolation Row\n \n \n \n Cinderella, she seems so easy\n \n “It takes one to know one,” she smiles\n \n And puts her hands in her back pockets\n \n Bette Davis style\n \n And in comes Romeo, he’s moaning\n \n “You Belong to Me I Believe”\n \n And someone says, “You’re in the wrong place my friend\n \n You better leave”\n \n And the only sound that’s left\n \n After the ambulances go\n \n Is Cinderella sweeping up\n \n On Desolation Row\n \n \n \n Now the moon is almost hidden\n \n The stars are beginning to hide\n \n The fortune-telling lady\n \n Has even taken all her things inside\n \n All except for Cain and Abel\n \n And the hunchback of Notre Dame\n \n Everybody is making love\n \n Or else expecting rain\n \n And the Good Samaritan, he’s dressing\n \n He’s getting ready for the show\n \n He’s going to the carnival tonight\n \n On Desolation Row\n \n \n \n Now Ophelia, she’s ’neath the window\n \n For her I feel so afraid\n \n On her twenty-second birthday\n \n She already is an old maid\n \n To her, death is quite romantic\n \n She wears an iron vest\n \n Her profession’s her religion\n \n Her sin is her lifelessness\n \n And though her eyes are fixed upon\n \n Noah’s great rainbow\n \n She spends her time peeking\n \n Into Desolation Row\n \n \n \n Einstein, disguised as Robin Hood\n \n With his memories in a trunk\n \n Passed this way an hour ago\n \n With his friend, a jealous monk\n \n He looked so immaculately frightful\n \n As he bummed a cigarette\n \n Then he went off sniffing drainpipes\n \n And reciting the alphabet\n \n Now you would not think to look at him\n \n But he was famous long ago\n \n For playing the electric violin\n \n On Desolation Row\n \n \n \n Dr. Filth, he keeps his world\n \n Inside of a leather cup\n \n But all his sexless patients\n \n They’re trying to blow it up\n \n Now his nurse, some local loser\n \n She’s in charge of the cyanide hole\n \n And she also keeps the cards that read\n \n “Have Mercy on His Soul”\n \n They all play on pennywhistles\n \n You can hear them blow\n \n If you lean your head out far enough\n \n From Desolation Row\n \n \n \n Across the street they’ve nailed the curtains\n \n They’re getting ready for the feast\n \n The Phantom of the Opera\n \n A perfect image of a priest\n \n They’re spoonfeeding Casanova\n \n To get him to feel more assured\n \n Then they’ll kill him with self-confidence\n \n After poisoning him with words\n \n And the Phantom’s shouting to skinny girls\n \n “Get Outa Here If You Don’t Know\n \n Casanova is just being punished for going\n \n To Desolation Row”\n \n \n \n Now at midnight all the agents\n \n And the superhuman crew\n \n Come out and round up everyone\n \n That knows more than they do\n \n Then they bring them to the factory\n \n Where the heart-attack machine\n \n Is strapped across their shoulders\n \n And then the kerosene\n \n Is brought down from the castles\n \n By insurance men who go\n \n Check to see that nobody is escaping\n \n To Desolation Row\n \n \n \n Praise be to Nero’s Neptune\n \n The Titanic sails at dawn\n \n And everybody’s shouting\n \n “Which Side Are You On?”\n \n And Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot\n \n Fighting in the captain’s tower\n \n While calypso singers laugh at them\n \n And fishermen hold flowers\n \n Between the windows of the sea\n \n Where lovely mermaids flow\n \n And nobody has to think too much\n \n About Desolation Row\n \n \n \n Yes, I received your letter yesterday\n \n (About the time the doorknob broke)\n \n When you asked how I was doing\n \n Was that some kind of joke?\n \n All these people that you mention\n \n Yes, I know them, they’re quite lame\n \n I had to rearrange their faces\n \n And give them all another name\n \n Right now I can’t read too good\n \n Don’t send me no more letters no\n \n Not unless you mail them\n \n From Desolation Row</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>From a Buick 6</title> <lyrics>I got this graveyard woman, you know she keeps my kid\n \n But my soulful mama, you know she keeps me hid\n \n She’s a junkyard angel and she always gives me bread\n \n Well, if I go down dyin’, you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.\n \n \n \n Well, when the pipeline gets broken and I’m lost on the river bridge\n \n I’m cracked up on the highway and on the water’s edge\n \n She comes down the thruway ready to sew me up with thread\n \n Well, if I go down dyin’, you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.\n \n \n \n Well, she don’t make me nervous, she don’t talk too much\n \n She walks like Bo Diddley and she don’t need no crutch\n \n She keeps this four-ten all loaded with lead\n \n Well, if I go down dyin’, you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.\n \n \n \n Well, you know I need a steam shovel mama to keep away the dead\n \n I need a dump truck mama to unload my head\n \n She brings me everything and more, and just like I said\n \n Well, if I go down dyin’, you know she bound to put a blanket on my bed.</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Sitting on a Barbed-Wire Fence</title> <lyrics>I paid fifteen million dollars, twelve hundred and seventy-two cents\n\nI paid one thousand two hundred twenty-seven dollars and fifty-five cents\n\nSee my hound dog bite a rabbit\n\nAnd my football’s sittin’ on a barbed-wire fence\n\n\n\nWell, my temperature rises and my feet don’t walk so fast\n\nYes, my temperature rises and my feet don’t walk so fast\n\nWell, this Arabian doctor came in, gave me a shot\n\nBut wouldn’t tell me if what I had would last\n\n\n\nWell, this woman I’ve got, she’s filling me with her drive\n\nYes, this woman I’ve got, she’s thrillin’ me with her hive\n\nShe’s calling me Stan\n\nOr else she calls me Mister Clive\n\n\n\nOf course, you’re gonna think this song is a riff\n\nI know you’re gonna think this song is a cliff\n\nUnless you’ve been inside a tunnel\n\nAnd fell down 69, 70 feet over a barbed-wire fence\n\n\n\nAll night!</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Farewell, Angelina</title> <lyrics>Farewell Angelina\n\nThe bells of the crown\n\nAre being stolen by bandits\n\nI must follow the sound\n\nThe triangle tingles\n\nAnd the trumpets play slow\n\nFarewell Angelina\n\nThe sky is on fire\n\nAnd I must go\n\n\n\nThere’s no need for anger\n\nThere’s no need for blame\n\nThere’s nothing to prove\n\nEv’rything’s still the same\n\nJust a table standing empty\n\nBy the edge of the sea\n\nFarewell Angelina\n\nThe sky is trembling\n\nAnd I must leave\n\n\n\nThe jacks and the queens\n\nHave forsaked the courtyard\n\nFifty-two gypsies\n\nNow file past the guards\n\nIn the space where the deuce\n\nAnd the ace once ran wild\n\nFarewell Angelina\n\nThe sky is folding\n\nI’ll see you in a while\n\n\n\nSee the cross-eyed pirates sitting\n\nPerched in the sun\n\nShooting tin cans\n\nWith a sawed-off shotgun\n\nAnd the neighbors they clap\n\nAnd they cheer with each blast\n\nFarewell Angelina\n\nThe sky’s changing color\n\nAnd I must leave fast\n\n\n\nKing Kong, little elves\n\nOn the rooftops they dance\n\nValentino-type tangos\n\nWhile the makeup man’s hands\n\nShut the eyes of the dead\n\nNot to embarrass anyone\n\nFarewell Angelina\n\nThe sky is embarrassed\n\nAnd I must be gone\n\n\n\nThe machine guns are roaring\n\nThe puppets heave rocks\n\nThe fiends nail time bombs\n\nTo the hands of the clocks\n\nCall me any name you like\n\nI will never deny it\n\nFarewell Angelina\n\nThe sky is erupting\n\nI must go where it’s quiet</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues</title> <lyrics>When you’re lost in the rain in Juarez\n \n And it’s Eastertime too\n \n And your gravity fails\n \n And negativity don’t pull you through\n \n Don’t put on any airs\n \n When you’re down on Rue Morgue Avenue\n \n They got some hungry women there\n \n And they really make a mess outta you\n \n \n \n Now if you see Saint Annie\n \n Please tell her thanks a lot\n \n I cannot move\n \n My fingers are all in a knot\n \n I don’t have the strength\n \n To get up and take another shot\n \n And my best friend, my doctor\n \n Won’t even say what it is I’ve got\n \n \n \n Sweet Melinda\n \n The peasants call her the goddess of gloom\n \n She speaks good English\n \n And she invites you up into her room\n \n And you’re so kind\n \n And careful not to go to her too soon\n \n And she takes your voice\n \n And leaves you howling at the moon\n \n \n \n Up on Housing Project Hill\n \n It’s either fortune or fame\n \n You must pick up one or the other\n \n Though neither of them are to be what they claim\n \n If you’re lookin’ to get silly\n \n You better go back to from where you came\n \n Because the cops don’t need you\n \n And man they expect the same\n \n \n \n Now all the authorities\n \n They just stand around and boast\n \n How they blackmailed the sergeant-at-arms\n \n Into leaving his post\n \n And picking up Angel who\n \n Just arrived here from the coast\n \n Who looked so fine at first\n \n But left looking just like a ghost\n \n \n \n I started out on burgundy\n \n But soon hit the harder stuff\n \n Everybody said they’d stand behind me\n \n When the game got rough\n \n But the joke was on me\n \n There was nobody even there to call my bluff\n \n I’m going back to New York City\n \n I do believe I’ve had enough</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Mr. Tambourine Man</title> <lyrics>Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me\n \n I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to\n \n Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me\n \n In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you\n \n \n \n Though I know that evenin’s empire has returned into sand\n \n Vanished from my hand\n \n Left me blindly here to stand but still not sleeping\n \n My weariness amazes me, I’m branded on my feet\n \n I have no one to meet\n \n And the ancient empty street’s too dead for dreaming\n \n \n \n Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me\n \n I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to\n \n Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me\n \n In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you\n \n \n \n Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin’ ship\n \n My senses have been stripped, my hands can’t feel to grip\n \n My toes too numb to step\n \n Wait only for my boot heels to be wanderin’\n \n I’m ready to go anywhere, I’m ready for to fade\n \n Into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way\n \n I promise to go under it\n \n \n \n Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me\n \n I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to\n \n Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me\n \n In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you\n \n \n \n Though you might hear laughin’, spinnin’, swingin’ madly across the sun\n \n It’s not aimed at anyone, it’s just escapin’ on the run\n \n And but for the sky there are no fences facin’\n \n And if you hear vague traces of skippin’ reels of rhyme\n \n To your tambourine in time, it’s just a ragged clown behind\n \n I wouldn’t pay it any mind\n \n It’s just a shadow you’re seein’ that he’s chasing\n \n \n \n Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me\n \n I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to\n \n Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me\n \n In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you\n \n \n \n Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind\n \n Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves\n \n The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach\n \n Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow\n \n Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free\n \n Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands\n \n With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves\n \n Let me forget about today until tomorrow\n \n \n \n Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me\n \n I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to\n \n Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me\n \n In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Queen Jane Approximately</title> <lyrics>When your mother sends back all your invitations\n \n And your father to your sister he explains\n \n That you’re tired of yourself and all of your creations\n \n Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?\n \n Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?\n \n \n \n Now when all of the flower ladies want back what they have lent you\n \n And the smell of their roses does not remain\n \n And all of your children start to resent you\n \n Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?\n \n Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?\n \n \n \n Now when all the clowns that you have commissioned\n \n Have died in battle or in vain\n \n And you’re sick of all this repetition\n \n Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?\n \n Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?\n \n \n \n When all of your advisers heave their plastic\n \n At your feet to convince you of your pain\n \n Trying to prove that your conclusions should be more drastic\n \n Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?\n \n Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?\n \n \n \n Now when all the bandits that you turned your other cheek to\n \n All lay down their bandanas and complain\n \n And you want somebody you don’t have to speak to\n \n Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?\n \n Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Gates of Eden</title> <lyrics>Of war and peace the truth just twists\n \n Its curfew gull just glides\n \n Upon four-legged forest clouds\n \n The cowboy angel rides\n \n With his candle lit into the sun\n \n Though its glow is waxed in black\n \n All except when ’neath the trees of Eden\n \n \n \n The lamppost stands with folded arms\n \n Its iron claws attached\n \n To curbs ’neath holes where babies wail\n \n Though it shadows metal badge\n \n All and all can only fall\n \n With a crashing but meaningless blow\n \n No sound ever comes from the Gates of Eden\n \n \n \n The savage soldier sticks his head in sand\n \n And then complains\n \n Unto the shoeless hunter who’s gone deaf\n \n But still remains\n \n Upon the beach where hound dogs bay\n \n At ships with tattooed sails\n \n Heading for the Gates of Eden\n \n \n \n With a time-rusted compass blade\n \n Aladdin and his lamp\n \n Sits with Utopian hermit monks\n \n Sidesaddle on the Golden Calf\n \n And on their promises of paradise\n \n You will not hear a laugh\n \n All except inside the Gates of Eden\n \n \n \n Relationships of ownership\n \n They whisper in the wings\n \n To those condemned to act accordingly\n \n And wait for succeeding kings\n \n And I try to harmonize with songs\n \n The lonesome sparrow sings\n \n There are no kings inside the Gates of Eden\n \n \n \n The motorcycle black madonna\n \n Two-wheeled gypsy queen\n \n And her silver-studded phantom cause\n \n The gray flannel dwarf to scream\n \n As he weeps to wicked birds of prey\n \n Who pick up on his bread crumb sins\n \n And there are no sins inside the Gates of Eden\n \n \n \n The kingdoms of Experience\n \n In the precious wind they rot\n \n While paupers change possessions\n \n Each one wishing for what the other has got\n \n And the princess and the prince\n \n Discuss what’s real and what is not\n \n It doesn’t matter inside the Gates of Eden\n \n \n \n The foreign sun, it squints upon\n \n A bed that is never mine\n \n As friends and other strangers\n \n From their fates try to resign\n \n Leaving men wholly, totally free\n \n To do anything they wish to do but die\n \n And there are no trials inside the Gates of Eden\n \n \n \n At dawn my lover comes to me\n \n And tells me of her dreams\n \n With no attempts to shovel the glimpse\n \n Into the ditch of what each one means\n \n At times I think there are no words\n \n But these to tell what’s true\n \n And there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)</title> <lyrics>Darkness at the break of noon\n \n Shadows even the silver spoon\n \n The handmade blade, the child’s balloon\n \n Eclipses both the sun and moon\n \n To understand you know too soon\n \n There is no sense in trying\n \n \n \n Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn\n \n Suicide remarks are torn\n \n From the fool’s gold mouthpiece the hollow horn\n \n Plays wasted words, proves to warn\n \n That he not busy being born is busy dying\n \n \n \n Temptation’s page flies out the door\n \n You follow, find yourself at war\n \n Watch waterfalls of pity roar\n \n You feel to moan but unlike before\n \n You discover that you’d just be one more\n \n Person crying\n \n \n \n So don’t fear if you hear\n \n A foreign sound to your ear\n \n It’s alright, Ma, I’m only sighing\n \n \n \n As some warn victory, some downfall\n \n Private reasons great or small\n \n Can be seen in the eyes of those that call\n \n To make all that should be killed to crawl\n \n While others say don’t hate nothing at all\n \n Except hatred\n \n \n \n Disillusioned words like bullets bark\n \n As human gods aim for their mark\n \n Make everything from toy guns that spark\n \n To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark\n \n It’s easy to see without looking too far\n \n That not much is really sacred\n \n \n \n While preachers preach of evil fates\n \n Teachers teach that knowledge waits\n \n Can lead to hundred-dollar plates\n \n Goodness hides behind its gates\n \n But even the president of the United States\n \n Sometimes must have to stand naked\n \n \n \n An’ though the rules of the road have been lodged\n \n It’s only people’s games that you got to dodge\n \n And it’s alright, Ma, I can make it\n \n \n \n Advertising signs they con\n \n You into thinking you’re the one\n \n That can do what’s never been done\n \n That can win what’s never been won\n \n Meantime life outside goes on\n \n All around you\n \n \n \n You lose yourself, you reappear\n \n You suddenly find you got nothing to fear\n \n Alone you stand with nobody near\n \n When a trembling distant voice, unclear\n \n Startles your sleeping ears to hear\n \n That somebody thinks they really found you\n \n \n \n A question in your nerves is lit\n \n Yet you know there is no answer fit\n \n To satisfy, insure you not to quit\n \n To keep it in your mind and not forget\n \n That it is not he or she or them or it\n \n That you belong to\n \n \n \n Although the masters make the rules\n \n For the wise men and the fools\n \n I got nothing, Ma, to live up to\n \n \n \n For them that must obey authority\n \n That they do not respect in any degree\n \n Who despise their jobs, their destinies\n \n Speak jealously of them that are free\n \n Cultivate their flowers to be\n \n Nothing more than something they invest in\n \n \n \n While some on principles baptized\n \n To strict party platform ties\n \n Social clubs in drag disguise\n \n Outsiders they can freely criticize\n \n Tell nothing except who to idolize\n \n And then say God bless him\n \n \n \n While one who sings with his tongue on fire\n \n Gargles in the rat race choir\n \n Bent out of shape from society’s pliers\n \n Cares not to come up any higher\n \n But rather get you down in the hole\n \n That he’s in\n \n \n \n But I mean no harm nor put fault\n \n On anyone that lives in a vault\n \n But it’s alright, Ma, if I can’t please him\n \n \n \n Old lady judges watch people in pairs\n \n Limited in sex, they dare\n \n To push fake morals, insult and stare\n \n While money doesn’t talk, it swears\n \n Obscenity, who really cares\n \n Propaganda, all is phony\n \n \n \n While them that defend what they cannot see\n \n With a killer’s pride, security\n \n It blows the minds most bitterly\n \n For them that think death’s honesty\n \n Won’t fall upon them naturally\n \n Life sometimes must get lonely\n \n \n \n My eyes collide head-on with stuffed\n \n Graveyards, false gods, I scuff\n \n At pettiness which plays so rough\n \n Walk upside-down inside handcuffs\n \n Kick my legs to crash it off\n \n Say okay, I have had enough\n \n what else can you show me?\n \n \n \n And if my thought-dreams could be seen\n \n They’d probably put my head in a guillotine\n \n But it’s alright, Ma, it’s life, and life only</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Highway 61 Revisited</title> <lyrics>Oh God said to Abraham, “Kill me a son”\n \n Abe says, “Man, you must be puttin’ me on”\n \n God say, “No.” Abe say, “What?”\n \n God say, “You can do what you want Abe, but\n \n The next time you see me comin’ you better run”\n \n Well Abe says, “Where do you want this killin’ done?”\n \n God says, “Out on Highway 61”\n \n \n \n Well Georgia Sam he had a bloody nose\n \n Welfare Department they wouldn’t give him no clothes\n \n He asked poor Howard where can I go\n \n Howard said there’s only one place I know\n \n Sam said tell me quick man I got to run\n \n Ol’ Howard just pointed with his gun\n \n And said that way down on Highway 61\n \n \n \n Well Mack the Finger said to Louie the King\n \n I got forty red white and blue shoestrings\n \n And a thousand telephones that don’t ring\n \n Do you know where I can get rid of these things\n \n And Louie the King said let me think for a minute son\n \n And he said yes I think it can be easily done\n \n Just take everything down to Highway 61\n \n \n \n Now the fifth daughter on the twelfth night\n \n Told the first father that things weren’t right\n \n My complexion she said is much too white\n \n He said come here and step into the light he says hmm you’re right\n \n Let me tell the second mother this has been done\n \n But the second mother was with the seventh son\n \n And they were both out on Highway 61\n \n \n \n Now the rovin’ gambler he was very bored\n \n He was tryin’ to create a next world war\n \n He found a promoter who nearly fell off the floor\n \n He said I never engaged in this kind of thing before\n \n But yes I think it can be very easily done\n \n We’ll just put some bleachers out in the sun\n \n And have it on Highway 61</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>On the Road Again</title> <lyrics>Well, I woke up in the morning\n \n There’s frogs inside my socks\n \n Your mama, she’s a-hidin’\n \n Inside the icebox\n \n Your daddy walks in wearin’\n \n A Napoleon Bonaparte mask\n \n Then you ask why I don’t live here\n \n Honey, do you have to ask?\n \n \n \n Well, I go to pet your monkey\n \n I get a face full of claws\n \n I ask who’s in the fireplace\n \n And you tell me Santa Claus\n \n The milkman comes in\n \n He’s wearing a derby hat\n \n Then you ask why I don’t live here\n \n Honey, how come you have to ask me that?\n \n \n \n Well, I asked for something to eat\n \n I’m hungry as a hog\n \n So I get brown rice, seaweed\n \n And a dirty hot dog\n \n I’ve got a hole\n \n Where my stomach disappeared\n \n Then you ask why I don’t live here\n \n Honey, I gotta think you’re really weird\n \n \n \n Your grandpa’s cane\n \n It turns into a sword\n \n Your grandma prays to pictures\n \n That are pasted on a board\n \n Everything inside my pockets\n \n Your uncle steals\n \n Then you ask why I don’t live here\n \n Honey, I can’t believe that you’re for real\n \n \n \n Well, there’s fistfights in the kitchen\n \n They’re enough to make me cry\n \n The mailman comes in\n \n Even he’s gotta take a side\n \n Even the butler\n \n He’s got something to prove\n \n Then you ask why I don’t live here\n \n Honey, how come you don’t move?</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes A train to Cry</title> <lyrics>Well, I ride on a mailtrain, baby\n \n Can’t buy a thrill\n \n Well, I’ve been up all night, baby\n \n Leanin’ on the windowsill\n \n Well, if I die\n \n On top of the hill\n \n And if I don’t make it\n \n You know my baby will\n \n \n \n Don’t the moon look good, mama\n \n Shinin’ through the trees?\n \n Don’t the brakeman look good, mama\n \n Flagging down the “Double E?”\n \n Don’t the sun look good\n \n Goin’ down over the sea?\n \n Don’t my gal look fine\n \n When she’s comin’ after me?\n \n \n \n Now the wintertime is coming\n \n The windows are filled with frost\n \n I went to tell everybody\n \n But I could not get across\n \n Well, I wanna be your lover, baby\n \n I don’t wanna be your boss\n \n Don’t say I never warned you\n \n When your train gets lost</lyrics>"}
{"text": "<title>Tombstone Blues</title> <lyrics>The sweet pretty things are in bed now of course\n \n The city fathers they’re trying to endorse\n \n The reincarnation of Paul Revere’s horse\n \n But the town has no need to be nervous\n \n \n \n The ghost of Belle Starr she hands down her wits\n \n To Jezebel the nun she violently knits\n \n A bald wig for Jack the Ripper who sits\n \n At the head of the chamber of commerce\n \n \n \n Mama’s in the fact’ry\n \n She ain’t got no shoes\n \n Daddy’s in the alley\n \n He’s lookin’ for the fuse\n \n I’m in the streets\n \n With the tombstone blues\n \n \n \n The hysterical bride in the penny arcade\n \n Screaming she moans, “I’ve just been made”\n \n Then sends out for the doctor who pulls down the shade\n \n Says, “My advice is to not let the boys in”\n \n \n \n Now the medicine man comes and he shuffles inside\n \n He walks with a swagger and he says to the bride\n \n “Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride\n \n You will not die, it’s not poison”\n \n \n \n Mama’s in the fact’ry\n \n She ain’t got no shoes\n \n Daddy’s in the alley\n \n He’s lookin’ for the fuse\n \n I’m in the streets\n \n With the tombstone blues\n \n \n \n Well, John the Baptist after torturing a thief\n \n Looks up at his hero the Commander-in-Chief\n \n Saying, “Tell me great hero, but please make it brief\n \n Is there a hole for me to get sick in?”\n \n \n \n The Commander-in-Chief answers him while chasing a fly\n \n Saying, “Death to all those who would whimper and cry”\n \n And dropping a barbell he points to the sky\n \n Saying, “The sun’s not yellow it’s chicken”\n \n \n \n Mama’s in the fact’ry\n \n She ain’t got no shoes\n \n Daddy’s in the alley\n \n He’s lookin’ for the fuse\n \n I’m in the streets\n \n With the tombstone blues\n \n \n \n The king of the Philistines his soldiers to save\n \n Puts jawbones on their tombstones and flatters their graves\n \n Puts the pied pipers in prison and fattens the slaves\n \n Then sends them out to the jungle\n \n \n \n Gypsy Davey with a blowtorch he burns out their camps\n \n With his faithful slave Pedro behind him he tramps\n \n With a fantastic collection of stamps\n \n To win friends and influence his uncle\n \n \n \n Mama’s in the fact’ry\n \n She ain’t got no shoes\n \n Daddy’s in the alley\n \n He’s lookin’ for the fuse\n \n I’m in the streets\n \n With the tombstone blues\n \n \n \n The geometry of innocence flesh on the bone\n \n Causes Galileo’s math book to get thrown\n \n At Delilah who sits worthlessly alone\n \n But the tears on her cheeks are from laughter\n \n \n \n Now I wish I could give Brother Bill his great thrill\n \n I would set him in chains at the top of the hill\n \n Then send out for some pillars and Cecil B. DeMille\n \n He could die happily ever after\n \n \n \n Mama’s in the fact’ry\n \n She ain’t got no shoes\n \n Daddy’s in the alley\n \n He’s lookin’ for the fuse\n \n I’m in the streets\n \n With the tombstone blues\n \n \n \n Where Ma Rainey and Beethoven once unwrapped their bedroll\n \n Tuba players now rehearse around the flagpole\n \n And the National Bank at a profit sells road maps for the soul\n \n To the old folks home and the college\n \n \n \n Now I wish I could write you a melody so plain\n \n That could hold you dear lady from going insane\n \n That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain\n \n Of your useless and pointless knowledge\n \n \n \n Mama’s in the fact’ry\n \n She ain’t got no shoes\n \n Daddy’s in the alley\n \n He’s lookin’ for the fuse\n \n I’m in the streets\n \n With the tombstone blues</lyrics>"}