Skip to main content

Jokerman

Standing on the waters casting your bread
While the eyes of the idol with the iron head are glowing.
Distant ships sailing into the mist,
You were born with a snake in both of your fists while a hurricane was blowing.
Freedom just around the corner for you
But with the truth so far off, what good will it do?

Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.

So swiftly the sun sets in the sky,
You rise up and say goodbye to no one.
Fools rush in where angels fear to tread,
Both of their futures, so full of dread, you don't show one.
Shedding off one more layer of skin,
Keeping one step ahead of the persecutor within.

Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.

You're a man of the mountains, you can walk on the clouds,
Manipulator of crowds, you're a dream twister.
You're going to Sodom and Gomorrah
But what do you care? Ain't nobody there would want to marry your sister.
Friend to the martyr, a friend to the woman of shame,
You look into the fiery furnace, see the rich man without any name.

Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.

Well, the Book of Leviticus and Deuteronomy,
The law of the jungle and the sea are your only teachers.
In the smoke of the twilight on a milk-white steed,
Michelangelo indeed could've carved out your features.
Resting in the fields, far from the turbulent space,
Half asleep near the stars with a small dog licking your face.

Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.

Well, the rifleman's stalking the sick and the lame,
Preacherman seeks the same, who'll get there first is uncertain.
Nightsticks and water cannons, tear gas, padlocks,
Molotov cocktails and rocks behind every curtain,
False-hearted judges dying in the webs that they spin,
Only a matter of time 'til night comes steppin' in.

Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.

It's a shadowy world, skies are slippery gray,
A woman just gave birth to a prince today and dressed him in scarlet.
He'll put the priest in his pocket, put the blade to the heat,
Take the motherless children off the street
And place them at the feet of a harlot.
Oh, Jokerman, you know what he wants,
Oh, Jokerman, you don't show any response.

Jokerman dance to the nightingale tune,
Bird fly high by the light of the moon,
Oh, oh, oh, Jokerman.

-Bob Dylan

Comments

Popular Posts

Thoughts on Phish

  The first time I heard about Phish was my senior year at Episcopal back in 1992. At that time in music history, grunge was just beginning to explode on the scene. Pearl Jam was about all we listened to. But I always kept time for my jam bands. I had already seen The Grateful Dead, The Allman Brothers Band, Widespread Panic and many others. CDs were still the way we listened to music, but cassette tapes were still around and were what you got all your bootlegs on. The internet didn't exist, or at least not to the public. Hearing about new bands was largely done by word of mouth. And that's how I heard about Phish. My first taste of Phish was their album "Lawnboy." I remember being impressed with the musicianship. I thought there was some Zappa-esque arrangements going on, as the music seemed to dart in crazy tangents. I also remember seeing a picture of the band and I thought they looked like a bunch of Trekky nerds. They definitely didn't look like MTV material,...

From Rand's "Atlas Shrugged"

"It is not advisable to venture unsolicited opinions.  You should spare yourself the embarrassing discovery of their exact value to your listener."
  At some point recently, the kids and I were telling each other stories. I can ’ t remember who went first, but Wyatt and Pepper each told their stories amid interruptions and corrections and suggestions. Let’s say for the sake of argument that Briar wasn’t talking yet, so it became my turn. Rather than the usual stories of kingdoms and unicorns and the garden variety stuff I usually went for, I decided to pull from my memory of past events. The kids listened in amazement, not really understanding  what I was talking about. The story was a hit. And I think I’ll share it with you now. It was the summer of 1993. I had finished my first year of college at The College of Charleston. At the end of summer, I would be transferring to NC State. I enjoyed College of Charleston very much. I loved the 9-to-1 girl-to-guy ratio. It had been a great year. But I had spent most weekends driving up and back from Raleigh to see my girlfriend Marcia. At some point during the year, I had decided...

Malkovich

Malkovich malkovich.  Malkovich, malkovich?  Malkovich malkovich malkovich. Malkovich malkovich, "Malkovich, malkovich malkovich malkovich."  Malkovich.  Malkovich malkovich: malkovich. Malkovich... malkovich, malkovich.  Malkovich!!!

Hillary F-in' Clinton

For the second day in a row, these god damn Hillary volunteers have taken up residence at my go-to coffee shop.  The bitch is campaigning here in NC tomorrow, so these fucking idiot children are all excited about the prospect of seeing their savior walk on water. And these god damn children are barely old enough to vote.  They still have their little heads in the clouds, thinking that Clinton gives a single damn about any of them.  This is the exact class of morons that can single-handedly ruin this country.  Them and the latinos, who probably won't be voting legally anyway.  But these kids haven't been out in the real world.  They haven't worked, sweated and then had asshole liberals tax them like crazy.  They'll see.  When their savior turns around and burns every one of them, they'll know they were stupid little fuckers all along. I'm really just pissed because I'd like to go to my coffee shop in peace and read my book without hearing these stupid fucking...