If I Wasn't Bob Dylan, I'd Probably

I Have Dined With Kings, I've Been Offered Wings. And I've Never Been Too Impressed.

Night Can Swallow You Up, Yet None Of It Touches You. Around Any Corner, There's A Promise Of Something Daring And Ideal And Things Are Just Getting Going. There's Something Obscenely Joyful Behind Every Door, Either That Or Somebody Crying With Their Head In In Their Hands. A Lazy Rhythm Looms In The Dreamy Air And The Atmosphere Pulsates With Bygone Duels, Past-life Romance, Comrades Requesting Comrades To Aid Them In Some Way. You Can't See It, But You Know It's There

My Senses Have Been Stripped, My Hands Can't Feel To Grip, My Toes To Numb To Step, Wait Only For My Boot Heels To Be Wandering.

It's Like My Whole Life Never Happened, When I See You, It's As If I Never Had A Thought. I Know This Dream, It Might Be Crazy, But It's The Only One I've Got.

It Ain't My Cup Of Meat.