Today is

   "A word to the wise ain't necessary --  
          it's the stupid ones that need the advice."
					-Bill Cosby

Saturday, April 16, 2005


I'm talking Bob, not Thomas.
Got this song in my head today from Blood On the Tracks.
Brings me back to my College Days.


'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved.
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail,
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail,
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Suddenly I turned around and she was standin' there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair.
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Now there's a wall between us, somethin' there's been lost
I took too much for granted, got my signals crossed.
Just to think that it all began on a long-forgotten morn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Well, the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount
But nothing really matters much, it's doom alone that counts
And the one-eyed undertaker, he blows a futile horn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

I've heard newborn babies wailin' like a mournin' dove
And old men with broken teeth stranded without love.
Do I understand your question, man, is it hopeless and forlorn?
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

In a little hilltop village, they gambled for my clothes
I bargained for salvation an' they gave me a lethal dose.
I offered up my innocence and got repaid with scorn.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Well, I'm livin' in a foreign country but I'm bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor's edge, someday I'll make it mine.
If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born.
"Come in," she said,
"I'll give you shelter from the storm."

Copyright © 1974 Ram's Horn Music


Blogger Conservative in Virginia said...

Man, I just HATE lyrics that almost seem to make sense and tell a story, but don't really.

April 17, 2005 8:30 AM  
Blogger stewdog said...

That is just the nature of art. Like life, it isn't always neat and tidy with a clean beginning, middle and end. I'm a pretty linear guy, but I have always loved Dylan's imagery. To me, part of the genius of this song is the mixing of the metaphors. . the combining of a guy who's had a rough go in life and a suggestion that it might be Jesus himself.
I've had many a rough day when I was glad to pull into the driveway, coming back to my home and family for the "Shelter from the Storm".

April 17, 2005 9:13 AM  
Blogger stewdog said...

CIV, maybe you would prefer another song from Blood On The Tracks, which is my favorite Bob Dylan album (if we can still call them that?)

They sat together in the park
As the evening sky grew dark,
She looked at him and he felt a spark tingle to his bones.
'Twas then he felt alone and wished that he'd gone straight
And watched out for a simple twist of fate.

They walked along by the old canal
A little confused, I remember well
And stopped into a strange hotel with a neon burnin' bright.
He felt the heat of the night hit him like a freight train
Moving with a simple twist of fate.

A saxophone someplace far off played
As she was walkin' by the arcade.
As the light bust through a beat-up shade where he was wakin' up,
She dropped a coin into the cup of a blind man at the gate
And forgot about a simple twist of fate.

He woke up, the room was bare
He didn't see her anywhere.
He told himself he didn't care, pushed the window open wide,
Felt an emptiness inside to which he just could not relate
Brought on by a simple twist of fate.

He hears the ticking of the clocks
And walks along with a parrot that talks,
Hunts her down by the waterfront docks where the sailers all come in.
Maybe she'll pick him out again, how long must he wait
Once more for a simple twist of fate.

People tell me it's a sin
To know and feel too much within.
I still believe she was my twin, but I lost the ring.
She was born in spring, but I was born too late
Blame it on a simple twist of fate.

Copyright © 1974 Ram's Horn Music

April 17, 2005 9:41 AM  
Blogger Conservative in Virginia said...

Well, that's a little more understandable. I think I owned 1 Dylan album way back when -- the one with Isis. I wasn't a huge fan and couldn't afford to buy too many albums that were not a "sure thing" (meaning I had heard most of the songs).

April 17, 2005 4:48 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

oTUbA |
ZvBJz |

August 20, 2005 3:24 AM  

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