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4th time around |
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|
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Bob Dylan |
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|
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When she said, |
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"Don't waste your words, they're just lies," |
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I cried she was deaf. |
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And she worked on my face until breaking my eyes, |
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Then said, "What else you got left?" |
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It was then that I got up to leave |
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But she said, "Don't forget, |
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Everybody must give something back |
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For something they get." |
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I stood there and hummed, |
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I tapped on her drum and asked her how come. |
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And she buttoned her boot, |
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And straightened her suit, |
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Then she said, "Don't get cute." |
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So I forced my hands in my pockets |
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And felt with my thumbs, |
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And gallantly handed her |
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My very last piece of gum. |
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She threw me outside, |
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I stood in the dirt where ev'ryone walked. |
| [02:15.20] |
But when finding I'd |
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Forgotten my shirt, |
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I went back and knocked. |
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I waited in the hallway, she went to get it, |
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And I tried to make sense |
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Out of that picture of you in your wheelchair |
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That leaned up against . . . |
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Her Jamaican rum |
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And when she did come, I asked her for some. |
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She said, "No, dear." |
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I said, "Your words aren't clear, |
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You'd better spit out your gum." |
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She screamed till her face got so red |
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Then she fell on the floor, |
| [03:11.49] |
And I covered her up and then |
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When I'd go look through her drawer. |
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And, when I was through |
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I filled up my shoe |
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And brought it to you. |
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And you, you took me in, |
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You loved me then |
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You didn't waste time. |
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And I, I never took much, |
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I never asked for your crutch. |
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Now don't ask for mine. |