Any Real Bob Dylan Fan Would Sleep

I Believe In You, Even Though I Be Outnumbered.

We Have Never Arrived. We Are In A Constant State Of Becoming.

I Just Don't Hear Anyone Else Making The Music I'm Making In My Head, So I'll Have To Do It Myself.

They're Selling Postcards Of The Hanging They're Painting The Passports Brown The Beauty Parlor Is Filled With Sailors The Circus Is In Town Here Comes The Blind Commissioner They've Got Him In A Trance One Hand Is Tied To The Tight-rope Walker The Other Is In His Pants And The Riot Squad They're Restless They Need Somewhere To Go As Lady And I Look Out Tonight From Desolation Row.

They Self-inflict Punishment On Their Own Broken Lives, Put Their Faith In Their Possessions, In Their Jobs, Or Their Wives.