Abe said, where do you want this killing done? God said, out on highway 61.
If I wasn't Bob Dylan, I'd probably think that Bob Dylan has a lot of answers myself.
I believe in you, even though I be outnumbered.
In ceremonies of the horsemen, even the pawn must hold a grudge.
The truth was obscure, Too profound and too pure, To live it you had to explode
Disillusioned words like bullets bark as human gods aim for their mark.