Bob DylanI watched his cracked dry lips as they sang his songs.More Like This
Cold raw finger tips dancing along.
On a long wooden neck, of a factory made guitar.
Singing of truths from a voice so distant and far.
The lands, they'd split as the people, they'd raved.
While ol' Bob, he'd sit there on his brass bucket, and wave.
At the near to gone crazy, and the old, the good, and dead.
And I watched as he wouldn't bother to lift up his sunken head.
God, let thunder strike me down if I ever wish to be like him.
For it don't take the gifted to learn that we're all stuck in the same loonie bin.
And Soon It Will All Mean Nothing.There comes a day in everyone's lifeMore Like This
When everything won't mean anything.
I wouldn’t pretend that I had loved everything.
And yet I won’t say I hadn’t loved anything.
The day I've been waiting for all my life,
I now face with turbulence and strife.
The cords are in boxes, my room is a mess.
The robe hangs in my closet like a wedding dress,
A gown I feel I shouldn’t yet wear,
But the overwhelming temptation is there.
And after I wear cords, medals and stoles,
After contemplating near impossible goals,
Every certificate, plaque, and badge on my wall,
After today will mean nothing at all.
Every word that I crammed for a rigorous test,
After trying and failing, but giving my best.
Every rejection, acceptance, I've ever received
Has brought me down, has helped me succeed.
Every moment I worried what they would think,
Who was I to ever care?
When soon it will all mean nothing,
With their judgement no longer there.
Will I ever miss it?
I never thought I would.
The Fall of the Roman EmpireWhen you've reached the peak and you have it all,More Like This
Which way can you move without a fall?
When the gains you've made are through war and greed
And you've lost all sight of the poor man’s need.
Then surely the riches you eagerly sought,
The lands you conquered, the wars you fought,
Must someday dissolve with a cry of pain,
‘Cause you can’t hold an empire on that kind of gain.
The Roman Empire in days of old,
Was a land of honey and wine and gold,
But the honey and wine were for just a few,
And the gold seemed to go the same way too.
The men at the top wanted more and more,
Then they had it all and it was all a bore.
So they looked for a means to brighten their days,
And they managed this in many ways.
The lions roared and the fun began
When they opened the doors and pushed out a man.
And the air was torn with joyful cries,
As the blood spilled out before their eyes.
The Christians, it seemed, were their favorite game,
And they died in the hundreds in the Good Lord