The Repeating of Bob Dylan

Watching Bob Dylan, not conforming into the system

of a cause, surfing channels between

a rock’n roll show, searching for a new lead

vocal, the voice of folk fuses itself into

the age of culture-clashing of abundance.

The fusion of tradition and unpredictability

claims to be new.

The fusion of lyrics and melody

dancing the tango of classical rhythm

in the free verse of Taoism.

Look Father figure,

I am a success,

Working for the fat cats,

Properly dressed,

A mess!

Distress!

In my life its wrong that I should be living like this.

For it's something the kids should never have to see,

I walk to run,

I dig to hide,

And I feel there's nothing left of good in me,

I scream to talk,

I fight to cry,

And I feel god's a vendetta in for me.

With lips tightly sealed,

She swallows her tounge,

Shifty eyes,

Shes been and gone,

I like to wonder what you'll do with your life,

Yeah, like I ever will.

I disgust myself,

I lay awake in the dirt,

I love her and I hate myself,

"Boy that hurts!"

Why am I here?

Lonley Youth.

I'm in a crowded street,

I hold back the tears as I watch people by,

Sense the saddness hid within the eyes,

And my heart breaks for them,

Feel the pain inside.

Exhausted, dying some disgusting disease,

Tortured, Tormented,

Angry or lonely,

And if your suicidal,

Trust me they won't believe,

But me heart bleeds,

I feel the pain inside.

Hurting people can make you feel so small,

You know?

I know when your hurting cause I feel it all,

Feel it in my blood and maybe,