ITS ALL RIGHT MA IM ONLY BLEEDN BOB DYLAN

Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fools gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proved to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying

So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to you ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their marks
Made everything from toy guns that sparks
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the President of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked

An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you

You loose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand without nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not forget
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to

For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despite their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platforms ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God Bless him

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him

Old lady judges, watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could been seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only  

   

Testimonios del perro solo y sus ojos de perro noble

Continuando con estos fragmentos de lo que platicamos con GAb y su nuevo ciclo narrativo. Parte también del hecho de su real aislamiento del mundo que vivió o sufrió o decidió pasar durante más de 12 años...

"Sí, bueno, en realidad nunca he sido una persona de mucha vida social. Pero mi decisión había sido apartarme para poder escribir lo que tenía pensado escribir que al final sí escribí. Pero salí de las empresas, de ser empleado, sin ganar todo lo que ganaba pero con el tiempo para leer, investigar y fraguar lo que iba a culminar en mi escritura. Lo hice. Pero sí me quedé aislado.

Es como si te hubiesen congelado y te despiertan 100 años después y todos los que eran tus amigos ya te ven como extraterrestre y nada tienes que ver en sus vidas. Ha sido difícil intentar volver al mundo pero fue la decisión que yo tomé."

Poca, poquísima gente ha tenido acceso más íntimo con GAb, en la mayoría de las ocasiones las mujeres que ha amado. " Me enriquecieron tanto, y todas ellas fueron especiales porque una mujer común ni me hubiese volteado a ver. Así que fue un privilegio. Salí raspado de una, bueno , no raspado, se llevó mi corazón, pero también era parte del plan. Todo lo que he escrito lo he vivido. La parte ficticia pues tiene que ver con los personajes o situaciones pero todo el corazón de lo que escribo ha sido real, verídico...ya no lo vuelvo a hacer. Ya no aguantaría. Esta última vez yo pensé que no la libraba. Por eso el cambio es completo. Vuelvo al mundo con esas experiencias y sin la menor intensión de volver a vivir lo que ya viví. Esto lo he hecho siempre.

A alguien no le devuelves el amor, alguien no te lo devuelve a ti. Te sientes único, el único indefenso, el único engañado, el único perdido. Y no, nosotros también de vuelta hemos cometido esos crímenes. Nadie nos libramos. Y es parte de esta existencia. Y uno mismo es quien se pone ahí para ser venerado o aplastado. La responsabilidad es propia.

Gabo no tiene amigos, y no lo dice con amargura sino con verdad, es un hecho, así es. no tiene vida social, de verdad se retiro a su areopago a escribir y crear, a vivir tal vez en su solo mundo pues es cierto que el mundo y él no han hecho buenas migas en todo su peregrinar en este planeta. Él ya  no se queja. "De joven lo sufrí mucho, desde niño. El hecho de que no me faltase nada pero que dentro de mí existiese una inquietud incomprensible, el sentirme siempre otro y en otra parte. Nunca me sentí pertenecer a ningún lugar ni generación. Por eso yo no añoro los 80, ni la generación ni nada de eso, simplemente parece que no hubiese estado yo ahí. Yo he vivido, creo, en mi creaciones, en lo que he querido amar y abrazar. Pero en la realidad no he encajado. De los trabajos siempre fui considerado demasiado creativo, impulsivo, intenso...y yo, realmente no me veo así. Siento que soy bastante tranquilo pero hay algo que transmitía a la gente que me ha alejado de todos, hasta de quienes yo pensaba eran mis amigos. Simplemente si me tratan de lejitos mejor.

No quiero comprensión, ya no, demasiado tarde. Pero no quiero compasión o lástima, nada de eso. Sería ofensivo. Simplemente así son las cosas, habemos seres que de veras estamos curtidos por el manto d ela soledad, perros solos andantes, de mirada perra pero de la noble, de esa extrañeza que la gente prefiere guardarse. Y así es esto. Todo se atrapa y disfruta, todo se vive y sufre, nuestra alma es una alforja, eso me quiero llevar.

El nuevo ciclo narrativo está increíble, me motiva mucho, me da mucho y me ha permitido intercambiar impresiones con personas que admiro mucho Eso para mí no tiene precio.

La amistad, los amigos, como diría Baudelaire "hasta ahora no he comprendido el significado de ello. Pero mire las nubes, ¡las maravillosas nubes!"

No home, no past: ojos de perro bueno

En una entrevista GAB decía que siempre ha sido un ser sin pasado, "nunca me he sentido pertenecer a ningún lado. Lo digo sin ninguna carga emotiva, simplemente como un hecho. Me fascinan las tradiciones del país donde nací, pero no me siento ser parte de ello."

Esta condición extralugar posiblemente es la que le da a Gab y sus escritos o actividades relacionadas con el arte un aspecto universal sin perder esa atmósfera del enigma del ser mexicano que se respira en su obra.

"Es inevitable y aún se torna muy vital el volcar esta extrañeza del ser y de mi mexicanidad en mi trabajo literario o visual. Es una constante pregunta. Pero yo no escribo preguntas, abordo esa extrañeza con la que veo a mis prójimos humanos y humanas, y esa extrañeza que parte de mí hacia todo lo que veo y observo. Uno, es verdad, se crea todo: todas tus percepciones, todo lo que sientes que piensas, todo es solo una imagen que se te ha alimentado y que tú mismo te encargas de seguir alimentando, como ese monstruo en el calabazo que quieres fingir no existe pero ahí estás dándole de comer, de rumiar, de meditar y de actuar"

En el último álbum de canciones de GGT, "Tëmblor" pareciera que su propio sentido o impulso rebelde se pone en contra de sí mismo, indagando qué tan rebeldes son los rebeldes o si ya son también un producto de consumo. "Ha sido un tanto riesgoso porque los amigos que te han visto como alguien "rebelde" (sea lo que eso signifique) ahora se incomodan de verte cuestionando precisamente ello por lo que dicen tú vives y mueres. Y no es así: yo me pregunto de todo, necesito poner el espejo de lo contrario, no estar completamente de un lado. Eso no significa que no tengas convicciones ni principios. Solo pasa que en el arte tú puedes ser tantos personajes quieras, tantas situaciones desees explorar."

Ahora inicia un nuevo ciclo narrativo que, tentativamente tituló "los cycles de Victoria"...pero ya no puede llamarlo así...

"Fue como si me acusaran de plagio. Y es por alguien que aprecio mucho pero que sintió amenazada su relación. Pensaba que yo estaba de obsesivo tratando de recuperar algo muy bonito que vivimos pero nada de eso. Así es el impulso artístico. Pero una vez que me llamó la atención y se desapareció de nuevo se bloqueó todo. Es decir, ya no sentí que fluiría igual si alguien, que es estimado por mí, se siente afectada. Entonces ese nombre ya no pudo ser. De cualquier forma, todo este conjunto ha sufrido enemil modificaciones. Escribiendo, el proceso, la estructura, su desarrollo, toda la planeación y el hacerme de información es muy largo. Me parece que demasiado largo para como escriben ahora muchos, pero el proceso comienza con mi vida propia. Y es lo que ya no volveré a usar en el futuro...comenzando con este nuevo ciclo, contradictoriamente tengo que separarme aún más. Y ahí ha radicado la lucha interna y estilística, pues siempre intento explorar y atacar la composición de un nuevo libro desde otra aproximación..cuando siento que me está saliendo "demasiado fácil" es que me estoy repitiendo...entonces tengo que deternerme pues no me gusta repetir el mismo proceso. Al final, me parece que esto permanece transparente para el lector. Solo algunos muy aguzados podrían diferenciar...creo que son clarísimas. Y eso me gusta. Leo mucho lo de hoy y hay cosas increíbles y precisamente no quiero no escribo como los demás. Hoy hay un "estilo" genérico en la manera de escribir de la mayoría de los escritores...yo trato, por respeto a ellos y a mí, adentrarme por otra parte del bosque."

El nuevo ciclo deambula entre varios nombres, tantos que posiblemente quede en que hasta que quede terminado este ciclo de 5 novelas simultáneas, Gabriel le ponga el título del conjunto.

Se espera queden terminadas comenzando el año 2013. Gabriel dice que no podría seguir con ello más tiempo.

"Me estoy exorcizando de muchas cosas, de muchos monstruos internos que por años estuvieron anidando en mí. Es tiempo de cambiar ...oooootra vez. Este segundo ciclo de mi vida literaria es quizá el más intenso, pero también el puente más breve entre el anterior y lo que venga después...tal vez dejar de escribir para siempre...quién sabe."

Por vía de mientras tanto, Gabriel ha cambiado su imagen nuevamente, cuernos les pintó a los que juraban se volvería corporate y recatado, se ha hecho el firme propósito de conocer nuevas experiencias y seres que no tengan el signo zodiacal que lo marcó enormemente este pasado ciclo. El signo se omite para no caen en supersticiones ni en referencias que no vienen a cuento traer acá.

La cuestión es que las consecutivas muertes de Garibay nos han traído, al puñado que lo hemos leído, un artista que de verdad lo es, que no tiene nada que ver con ser famoso ni tener miles de followers, donde solo importa la verdadera búsqueda de una literatura, si no nueva, sí propia, auténtica, sincera y de alta, muy alta calidad. Tanto, que no se venden en las tiendas sus libros. Y hasta ahora no han convencido a Garibay de que lo haga. Ese mainstream no ofrece lo que quiere él...hasta ahora.

En fin.

Noche de Muertos y la luna llena

La luna llena nos pega
A algunos unos una semana antes
A otros una semana después
Pero su influjo es indudable

Se presta a supercherías, sí
a supersticiones, sí también

Pero todo mito y toda mentira
parten de verdades

En luna llena las mareas se levantan

La luna llena afecta los ciclos menstruales
alebresta los instintos carnales

somos mayormente agua
La luna afecta el agua

Las plantas
Las cosechas

Si sientes que particularmente en estos días
te sientes con sueño, o muy acelerado, digamos,
con sentimientos extremos, anota estas fechas,
y monitoréate.

Ve el mes que entra qué sucede.

Os aseguro que en un 90% la luna nos afecta

Nos pone locos
o depresivos

melancólicos
o apasionados

Nos pone extremos.
Nada de medias tintas con la luna llena

Te peleas con razón
o fornicas atronadoramente

Lloras inconsoladamente
Te acuerdas de alguien que nunca

Extremos

Se dice que aumenta el índice de suicidios
de choques automovilísticos

averias te objetos que tienen que ver con la electricidad

Sin duda no es casual entonces
el hombre lobo, sí, en serio.

Suena a guaza.
Pero no.

La Nasa ya hace experimentos a partir de ello, aún no rebelados
enteramente, para nuestra desfortuna pues nos toman de locos

de LUNATICOS.

personalidades serias como el músico peter gabriel lo cree
firmemente.

Entonces no estamos tan mal.

A mí me lo reveló un chamán hace muchos años.
Lo creí un loco, un lunático.

Y yo soy cáncer
Y sí, soy un lunático

Pero también soy muy racional
Y me encanta la información y la cutura
pero también me encantan los mitos salvajes
las ideas sobre la magia...aunque ya no creo nada en ello.

Pero es fascinante

Hay mucho muuuucho que aún comprendemos.

En cierto sentido me gusta que eso de la luna quede
aún no revelado

Todos los misterios que se han revelado pierden su magia
y en un santiamén se vuelven cotidianos
y ya no les damos importancia.

Es luna llena
Gózala
Súfrela
Síguela

Vas a ver: te llevarás una sopresa el mes próximo.

Días de luna: terribles. Siempre habrá una rota para un descosido

Tempest by Bob Dylan

The pale moon rose in its glory
Out on the Western town
She told a sad, sad story
Of the great ship that went down

T'was the fourteenth day of April
Over the waves she rode
Sailing into tomorrow
To a golden age foretold

The night was black with starlight
The seas were sharp and clear
Moving through the shadows
The promised hour was near

Lights were holding steady
Gliding over the foam
All the lords and ladies
Heading for their eternal home

The chandeliers were swaying
From the balustrades above
The orchestra was playing
Songs of faded love

The watchman, he lay dreaming
As the ballroom dancers twirled
He dreamed the Titanic was sinking
Into the underworld

Leo took his sketchbook
He was often so inclined
He closed his eyes and painted
The scenery in his mind

Cupid struck his bosom
And broke it with a snap
The closest woman to him
He fell into her lap

He heard a loud commotion
Something sounded wrong
His inner spirit was saying
That he couldn't stand here long

He staggered to the quarterdeck
No time now to sleep
Water on the quarterdeck
Already three foot deep

Smokestack was leaning sideways
Heavy feet began to pound
He walked into the whirlwind
Sky splitting all around

The ship was going under
The universe had opened wide
The roll was called up yonder
The angels turned aside

Lights down in the hallway
Flickering dim and dull
Dead bodies already floating
In the double bottom hull

The engines then exploded
Propellers they failed to start
The boilers overloaded
The ship's bow split apart

Passengers were flying
Backward, forward, far and fast
They mumbled, fumbled, and tumbled
Each one more weary than the last

The veil was torn asunder
'Tween the hours of twelve and one
No change, no sudden wonder
Could undo what had been done

The watchman lay there dreaming
At forty-five degrees
He dreamed that the Titanic was sinking
Dropping to her knees

Wellington he was sleeping
His bed began to slide
His valiant heart was beating
He pushed the tables aside

Glass of shattered crystal
Lay scattered roundabout
He strapped on both his pistols
How long could he hold out?

His men and his companions
Were nowhere to be seen
In silence there he waited for
Time and space to intervene

The passageway was narrow
There was blackness in the air
He saw every kind of sorrow
Heard voices everywhere

Alarm-bells were ringing
To hold back the swelling tide
Friends and lovers clinging
To each other side by side

Mothers and their daughters
Descending down the stairs
Jumped into the icy waters
Love and pity sent their prayers

The rich man, Mister Astor
Kissed his darling wife
He had no way of knowing
It'd be the last trip of his life

Calvin, Blake and Wilson
Gambled in the dark
Not one of them would ever live to
Tell the tale on the disembark

Brother rose up 'gainst brother
In every circumstance
They fought and slaughtered each other
In a deadly dance

They lowered down the lifeboats
From the sinking wreck
There were traitors, there were turncoats
Broken backs and broken necks

The bishop left his cabin
To help others in need
Turned his eyes up to the heavens
Said, "The poor are yours to feed"

Davey the brothel-keeper
Came out dismissed his girls
Saw the water getting deeper
Saw the changing of his world

Jim Dandy smiled
He never learned to swim
Saw the little crippled child
And he gave his seat to him

He saw the starlight shining
Streaming from the East
Death was on the rampage
But his heart was now at peace

They battened down the hatches
But the hatches wouldn't hold
They drowned upon the staircase
Of brass and polished gold

Leo said to Cleo
I think I'm going mad
But he'd lost his mind already
Whatever mind he had

He tried to block the doorway
To save all those from harm
Blood from an open wound
Pouring down his arm

Petals fell from flowers
?Til all of them were gone
In the long and dreadful hours
The wizard's curse played on

The host was pouring brandy
He was going down slow
He stayed right to the end and he
Was the last to go

There were many, many others
Nameless here forever more
They never sailed the ocean
Or left their homes before

The watchman, he lay dreaming
The damage had been done
He dreamed the Titanic was sinking
And he tried to tell someone

The captain, barely breathing
Kneeling at the wheel
Above him and beneath him
Fifty thousand tons of steel

He looked over at his compass
And he gazed into its face
Needle pointing downward
He knew he lost the race

In the dark illumination
He remembered bygone years
He read the Book of Revelation
And he filled his cup with tears

When the Reaper's task had ended
Sixteen hundred had gone to rest
The good, the bad, the rich, the poor
The loveliest and the best

They waited at the landing
And they tried to understand
But there is no understanding
On the judgement of God's hand

The news came over the wires
And struck with deadly force
Love had lost its fires
All things had run their course

The watchman he lay dreaming
Of all the things that can be
He dreamed the Titanic was sinking
Into the deep blue sea

Bob Dylan Tin Angel

It was late last night when the boss came home
To a deserted mansion and a desolate throne
Servant said: “Boss, the lady’s gone
She left this morning just ‘fore dawn.”

“You got something to tell me, tell it to me, man
Come to the point as straight as you can”
“Old Henry Lee, chief of the clan
Came riding through the woods and took her by the hand”

The boss he lay back flat on his bed
He cursed the heat and he clutched his head
He pondered the future of his fate
To wait another day would be far too late

“Go fetch me my coat and my tie
And the cheapest labour that money can buy
Saddle me up my buckskin mare
If you see me go by, put up a prayer” (The Boss)

Well, they rode all night, and they rode all day
Eastward, long down the broad highway
His spirit was tired and his vision was bent
His men deserted him and onward he went

He came to a place where the light was dull
His forehead pounding in his skull
Heavy heart was racked with pain
Insomnia raging in his brain

Well, he threw down his helmet and his cross-handled sword
He renounced his faith, he denied his lord
Crawled on his belly, put his ear to the wall
One way or another put an end to it all

He leaned down, cut the electric wire
Stared into the flames and he snorted the fire
Peered through the darkness, caught a glimpse of the two
It was hard to tell for certain who was who

He lowered himself down on a golden chain
His nerves were quaking in every vein
His knuckles were bloody, he sucked in the air
He ran his fingers through his greasy hair

They looked at each other and their glasses clinked
One single unit, inseparably linked
“Got a strange premonition there’s a man close by” (Henry Lee)
“Don’t worry about him, he wouldn’t harm a fly” (The Wife)

From behind the curtain, the boss he crossed the floor
He moved his feet and he bolted the door
Shadows hiding the lines in his face
With all the nobility of an ancient race

She turned, she was startled with a look of surprise
With a hatred that could hit the skies
“You’re a reckless fool, I could see it in your eyes
To come this way was by no means wise” (The Wife)

“Get up, stand up, you greedy-lipped wench
And cover your face or suffer the consequence
You are making my heart feel sick
Put your clothes back on, double-quick” (The Boss)

“Silly boy, you think me a saint
I’ll listen no more to your words of complaint
You’ve given me nothing but the sweetest lies
Now hold your tongue and feed your eyes” (The Wife)

“I’d have given you the stars and the planets, too
But what good would these things do you?
Bow the heart if not the knee
Or never again this world you’ll see” (The Boss)

“Oh, please let not your heart be cold
This man is dearer to me than gold” (The Wife)
“Oh, my dear, you must be blind
He’s a gutless ape with a worthless mind” (The Boss)

“You’ve had your way too long with me
Now it’s me who’ll determine how things shall be” (The Wife)
“Try to escape,” he cussed and cursed
‘You’ll have to try to get past me first” (The Boss)

“Do not let your passion rule
You think my heart the heart of a fool
And you, sir, you can not deny
You made a monkey of me, what and for why?” (The Boss)

“I’ll have no more of this insulting chat
The devil can have you, I’ll see to that
Look sharp or step aside
Or in the cradle you’ll wish you’d died” (Henry Lee)

The gun went boom and the shot rang clear
First bullet grazed his ear
Second ball went right straight in
And he bent in the middle like a twisted pin

He crawled to the corner and he lowered his head
He gripped the chair and he grabbed the bed
It would take more than needle and thread
Bleeding from the mouth, he’s as good as dead

“You shot my husband down, you fiend” (The Wife)
“Husband? What husband? What the hell do you mean?
He was a man of strife, a man of sin
I cut him down and threw him to the wind” (Henry Lee)

This she said with angry breath
“You too shall meet the lord of death
It was I who brought your soul to life” (The Wife)
Then she raised her robe and she drew out a knife

His face was hard and caked with sweat
His arms ached and his hands were wet
“You’re a murderous queen and a bloody wife
If you don’t mind, I’ll have the knife” (Henry Lee)

“We’re two of a kind and our blood runs hot
But we’re no way similar in body or thought
All husbands are good men, as all wives know” (The Wife)
Then she pierced him to the heart and his blood did flow

His knees went limp and he reached for the door
His tomb was sealed, he slid to the floor
He whispered in her ear: “This is all your fault
My fighting days have come to a halt” (Henry Lee)

She touched his lips and kissed his cheek
He tried to speak but his breath was weak
“You died for me, now I’ll die for you” (The Wife)
She put the blade to her heart and she ran it through

All three lovers together in a heap
Thrown into the grave, forever to sleep
Funeral torches blazed away
Through the towns and the villages all night and all day

BOB DYLAN Soon after midnight lyrics

I'm searching for phrases
To sing your praises
I need to tell someone
It's soon after midnight
And my day has just begun

A gal named Honey
Took my money
She was passing by
It's soon after midnight
And the moon is in my eye

My heart is cheerful
It's never fearful
I've been down on the killing floors
I'm in no great hurry
I'm not afraid of your fury
I've faced stronger walls than yours

Charlotte's a harlot
Dresses in scarlet
Mary dresses in green
It's soon after midnight
And I've got a date with the fairy queen

They chirp and they chatter
What does it matter?
They lie and dine in their blood
Two-timing slim
Who's every heard of him?
I'll drag his corpse through the mud

It's now or never
More than ever
When I met you I didn't think you do
It's soon after midnight
And I don't want nobody but you

Bob Dylan Roll on John lyrics

Doctor, doctor tell me the time of day
Another bottle's empty, another penny spent
He turned around and he slowly walked away
They shot him in the back and down he went

[Hook]
Shine your light
Movin' on
You burned so bright
Roll on, John

From the Liverpool docks to the red-light Hamburg streets
Down in the quarry with the quarrymen
Playing to the big crowds, playing to the cheap seats
Another day in the life on your way to your journey's end

[Hook]

Sailin' through the trade winds bound for the South
Rags on your back just like any other slave
They tied your hands and they clamped your mouth
Wasn't no way out of that deep dark cave

[Hook]

I heard the news today, oh boy
They hauled your ship up on the shore
Now the city gone dark, there is no more joy
They tore the heart right out and cut him to the core

[Hook]

Put on your bags and get 'em packed
Leave right now, you won't be far from wrong
The sooner you go the quicker you'll be back
You've been cooped up on an island far too long

[Hook]

Slow down you're moving way too fast
Come together right now over me
Your bones are weary, you're about to breathe your last
Lord, you know how hard that it can be

[Hook]

Roll on, John, roll through the rain and snow
Take the right-hand road and go where the buffalo roam
They'll trap you in an ambush before you know
Too late now to sail back home

[Hook]

Tyger, tyger burning bright
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
In the forests of the night
Cover 'em over and let him sleep

Bob Dylan Scarlett Twon lyrics

In Scarlet Town, where I was born
There’s ivy leaf and silver thorn
The streets have names that you can’t pronounce
Gold is down to a quarter of an ounce
The music starts and the people sway
Everybody says, “Are you going my way?"
Uncle Tom still workin' for Uncle Bill
Scarlet Town is under the hill

Scarlet Town in the month of May
Sweet William Holme on his deathbed lay
Mistress Mary by the side of the bed
Kissin' his face and puttin' prayers on his head
So brave and true, so gentle is he
I’ll weep for him as he would weep for me
Little Boy Blue come your blow horn
In Scarlet Town, where I was born

Scarlet Town, in the hot noon hours
There’s palm-leaf shadows and scattered flowers
Beggars crouching at the gate
Help comes, but it comes too late
By marble slabs and in fields of stone
You make your humble wishes known
I touched the garment, but the hem was torn
In Scarlet Town, where I was born

In Scarlet Town, the end is near
The Seven Wonders of the World are here
The evil and the good livin' side by side
All human forms seem glorified
Put your heart on a platter and see who will bite
See who will hold you and kiss you good night
There’s walnut groves and maplewood
In Scarlet Town cryin' won’t do no good

In Scarlet Town, you fight your father’s foes
Up on the hill, a chilly wind blows
You fight ‘em on high and you fight 'em down in
You fight 'em with whiskey, morphine and gin
You’ve got legs that can drive men mad
A lot of things we didn’t do that I wish we had
In Scarlet Town, the sky is clear
You’ll wish to God that you stayed right here

Set ‘em Joe, play “Walkin’ the Floor"
Play it for my flat-chested junkie whore
I’m staying up late, I’m making amends
While we smile, all heaven descends
If love is a sin, then beauty is a crime
All things are beautiful in their time
The black and the white, the yellow and the brown
It’s all right there in front of you in Scarlet Town

BOB DYLAN PAY IN BLOOD lyrics

Well I'm grinding my life out, steady and sure
Nothing more wretched than what I must endure
I'm drenched in the light that shines from the sun
I could stone you to death for the wrongs that you done
Sooner or later you make a mistake
I'll put you in a chain that you never will break
Legs and arms and body and bone
I pay in blood, but not my own

Night after night, day after day
They strip your useless hopes away
The more I take the more I give
The more I die the more I live
I got something in my pocket make your eyeballs swim
I got dogs could tear you limb from limb
I'm circling around the Southern Zone
I pay in blood, but not my own

Low cards are what I've got
But I'll play this hand whether I like it or not
I'm sworn to uphold the laws of God
You could put me out in front of a firing squad
I've been out and around with the rowdy men
Just like you, my handsome friend
My head's so hard, must be made of stone
I pay in blood, but not my own

Another politician pumping out the piss
Another angry beggar blowing you a kiss
You got the same eyes that your mother does
If only you could prove who your father was
Someone must have slipped a drug in your wine
You gulped it down and you cross the line
Man can't live by bread alone
I pay in blood, but not my own

How I made it back home, nobody knows
Or how I survived so many blows
I've been through hell, what good did it do?
You bastard! I'm suppose to respect you?
I'll give you justice, I'll fatten your purse
Show me your moral virtues first
Hear me holler and hear me moan
I pay in blood but not my own

You pet your lover in the bed
Come here, I'll break your lousy head
Our nation must be saved and freed
You've been accused of murder, how do you plead?
This is how I spend my days
I came to bury, not to praise
I'll drink my fill and sleep alone
I pay in blood, but not my own

      

bob dylan Narrow Way lyrics

I'm gonna walk across the desert 'til I'm in my right mind
I won't even think about what I left behind
Nothing back there anyway that I can call my own
Go back home, leave me alone
It's a long road, it's a long and narrow way
If I can't work up to you, you'll surely have to work down to me someday

Ever since the British burned the White House down
There's a bleeding wound in the heart of town
I saw you drinking from an empty cup
I saw you buried and I saw you dug up
It's a long road, it's a long and narrow way
If I can't work up to you, you'll surely have to work down to me someday

Look down angel from the skies
Help my weary soul to rise
I kissed her cheek I dragged your plow
You broke my heart, I was your friend 'til now
It's a long road, it's a long and narrow way
If I can't work up to you, you'll surely have to work down to me someday

In the courtyard of the golden sun
You stand and fight or you break and run
You went and lost your lovely head
For a drink of wine and a crust of bread
It's a long road, it's a long and narrow way
If I can't work up to you, you'll surely have to work down to me someday

We looted and we plundered on distant shores
Why is my share not equal to yours
Your father left you, your mother too
Even death has washed it's hands of you
It's a long road, it's a long and narrow way
If I can't work up to you, you'll surely have to work down to me someday

This is hard country to stay alive in
Blades are everywhere and they're breaking my skin
I'm armed to the hilt and I'm struggling hard
You won't get out of here unscarred
It's a long road, it's a long and narrow way
If I can't work up to you, you'll surely have to work down to me someday

You got too many lovers waiting at the wall
About a thousand tons, I couldn't count them all
Yesterday I could've thrown them all in the sea
Today, even one, may be too much for me
It's a long road, it's a long and narrow way
If I can't work up to you, you'll surely have to work down to me someday

Can't walk them, baby, you could do no wrong
Put your arms around me, where they belong
I won't take you under for the ghost to ????
Lay my hands all over you, tie you to my side
It's a long road, it's a long and narrow way
If I can't work up to you, you'll surely have to work down to me someday

I've got a heavy stacked woman with a smile on her face
And she has crowned my soul with grace
Im still hurting from an arrow that pierced my chest
I'm gonna have to take my head and bury it between your breasts
It's a long road, it's a long and narrow way
If I can't work up to you, you'll surely have to work down to me someday

Been dark all night but now it's dawn
The moving finger is moving on
You can guard me while I sleep
Kiss away the tears I weep
It's a long road, it's a long and narrow way
If I can't work up to you, you'll surely have to work down to me someday

I love women and she loves men
We've been to the west and we going back again
I heard a voice at the dusk of day
Saying, "Be gentle brother, be gentle and pray."
It's a long road, it's a long and narrow way
If I can't work up to you, you'll surely have to work down to me someday

Long waisted years lyrics by bob dylan

It's been such a long long time
Since we loved each other and our hearts were true
One time, for one brief day, I was the man for you

Last night I heard you talkin in your sleep
Saying things you shouldn't say, oh baby
You just may have to go to jail someday

Is there a place we can go?
Is there anybody we can see?
Maybe it's the same for you as it is for me

I ain't seen my family in twenty years
That ain't easy to understand, they may be dead by now
I lost track of em after they lost their land

Shake it up baby, twist and shout
You know what it's all about
What are you doing out there in the sun anyway?
Don't you know, the sun can burn your brains right out

My enemy crashed into the dust
Stopped dead in his tracks and he lost his lust
He was run down hard and he broke apart
He died in shame, he had an iron heart

I wear dark glasses to cover my eyes
There are secrets in em that I can't disguise
Come back baby
If I hurt your feelings, I apologize

Two trains running side by side, forty miles wide
Down the eastern line
You don't have to go
I just came to you because you're a friend of mine

I think that when my back was turned
The whole world behind me burned
It's been a while
Since we walked down that long, long aisle

We cried on a cold and frosty morn
We cried because our souls were torn
So much for tears
So much for these long and wasted years

Bob Dylan – Early Roman Kings Lyrics

Bob Dylan – Early Roman Kings Lyrics
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All the early Roman kings
In their shark skin suits
Bow ties and buttons
High top boots

Drivin' the spikes in *
Blazin' the rails
Nailed in their coffins
Top hats and tails
Fly away over
Fly away flap your wings
Fly by night

Like the early Roman kings
They're peddlers and they're meddlers
They buy and they sell
They destroyed your city
They'll destroy you as well
They're lecherous and treacherous
A-Hell bent for leather *
Each of 'em bigger
Than all men put together
Sluggers and muggers
Wearin fancy gold rings
All the women going crazy
For the early Roman kings

Corro a mirarme en ti Carmen Boullosa

"Callas.
¿Qué en tu boca ha penetrado también la registradora?
¿No abres tampoco el cajón de tus tesoros
a menos que yo lo soborne
con un billete?
¿Ya nadie dice nada si no es comprado,
ni los muertos?
Tú eres mi abuelo, tú eres mi padre, tú eres mi hermano
y mi hijo,

tú mi nieto y mi sentido.
Crecí a tu sombra y tú estabas presente cuando yo daba a luz.
¡Habla!"

Salgo con el poeta en el subway
-donde hemos vuelto a entrar sin darnos cuenta-
como a un saco de risas,
de contrabando en las miserias.

¡En todo encuenetras gozo, Juan Ramón!
¡En todo!
Tienes varias almas de violeta.
Te he traído aquí, al Museo de la Hispanic Society, en algo parecido a un golpe de crueldad, involuntaria.
"Y me dijo: ¿a dónde vas?"
Me lleva la bilis de mis entrañas.
"Inteligencia: dame el nombre sacado de la cosa."
Y esa cosa que me hizo traerte aquí es cruel
como la crueldad,
cruenta de Ms. Cruela de Vil,
como hecha en Nueva York,
como aquí patrida.


(fragmento de Corro a mirarme en ti de Carmen Boullosa; editoral Conaculta)