SO LET'S SHOOT
BOB DYLAN
IN THE EYE
What would he care anyway? That
stifling face purveying whatever it wants,
scrounging around to be something it's
not, nor ever was. Vaudeville charlatan,
pickle-poster poser, father of nineteen,
maker of many marks with a certain wry
false attached as well. A guy like a surreal
marksman, wearing a derby hat and pretending
to smoke a cigarette. Being something he never
was while making a publicity shot - but still
living home clinging at Mama and Papa's grace.
Forever like that. Living in a closet filled with
grime. Polishing the leather of never-worn
shoes. Traveling like a prisoner in a wagon
from town to town - and doing
absolutely nothing at all.
BOB DYLAN
IN THE EYE
What would he care anyway? That
stifling face purveying whatever it wants,
scrounging around to be something it's
not, nor ever was. Vaudeville charlatan,
pickle-poster poser, father of nineteen,
maker of many marks with a certain wry
false attached as well. A guy like a surreal
marksman, wearing a derby hat and pretending
to smoke a cigarette. Being something he never
was while making a publicity shot - but still
living home clinging at Mama and Papa's grace.
Forever like that. Living in a closet filled with
grime. Polishing the leather of never-worn
shoes. Traveling like a prisoner in a wagon
from town to town - and doing
absolutely nothing at all.
No comments:
Post a Comment