Art is a never-ending dance of illusions.
I can't see my reflection in the waters, I can't speak the sounds that show no pain. I can't hear the echo of my footsteps, or can't remember the sound of my own name.
Somebody had to be Bob Dylan. I guess I was best equipped to do the job.
Sundown, yellow moon, I replay the past I know every scene by heart, they all went by so fast
I make my stand and remain as I am, and bid farewell and not give a damn.
Good and bad, I define these terms, quite clear, no doubt, somehow.