Some Dylan lyrics take 40 years to make sense
I was listening to Highway 61 Revisited--one of my five favorite albums ever and a record I know by heart--just now and a lyric from "Tombstone Blues" leapt out like one of them crazy-talking soothsayers:
Well, John the Baptist after torturing a thief
Looks up at his hero the Commander-in-Chief
Saying, "Tell me great hero, but please make it brief
Is there a hole for me to get sick in?"
The Commander-in-Chief answers him while chasing a fly
Saying, "Death to all those who would whimper and cry"
And dropping a bar bell he points to the sky
Saying, "The sun's not yellow it's chicken"
When does mind-bending, surrealistic wordplay suddenly become journalism? When reality itself becomes surreal, I guess. Now I'm terrified to hear "Desolation Row."