His [Bob Dylan] humour was dry and splendid.
You're gonna have to serve somebody.
As he weeps to wicked birds of prey, who pick up on his bread crumb sins, and there are no sins inside the Gates of Eden.
Once you think you know the song, then you have go and see how other people have done it.
My guard stood hard when abstract threats, too noble to neglect, deceived me into thinking, I had something to protect.
Well the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount, But nothing really matters much it's doom alone that counts.