A Dozen Dead Oceans
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Paul Verlaine and Arthur Rimbaud, Brussels 1873 Patti Smith’s performance of Bob Dylan’s A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall on Friday in Stockholm for
[See the full post at: A Dozen Dead Oceans]It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under[Verse 1]
Broken glass everywhere
People pissing on the stairs, you know they just don’t care
I can’t take the smell, can’t take the noise
Got no money to move out, I guess I got no choice
Rats in the front room, roaches in the back
Junkies in the alley with a baseball bat
I tried to get away but I couldn’t get far
’Cause a man with a tow truck repossessed my car[Hook]
Don’t push me, ’cause I’m close to the edge
I’m trying not to lose my head
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under[Verse 2]
Standing on the front stoop, hanging out the window
Watching all the cars go by, roaring as the breezes blow
Crazy lady, living in a bag
Eating out of garbage pails, used to be a fag hag
Said she’ll dance the tango, skip the light fandango
A Zircon princess seemed to lost her senses
Down at the peep show watching all the creeps
So she can tell her stories to the girls back home
She went to the city and got so so siditty
She had to get a pimp, she couldn’t make it on her own[Hook]
Don’t push me, ’cause I’m close to the edge
I’m trying not to lose my head
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under[Verse 3]
My brother’s doing bad, stole my mother’s TV
Says she watches too much, it’s just not healthy
All My Children in the daytime, Dallas at night
Can’t even see the game or the Sugar Ray fight
The bill collectors, they ring my phone
And scare my wife when I’m not home
Got a bum education, double-digit inflation
Can’t take the train to the job, there’s a strike at the station
Neon King Kong standing on my back
Can’t stop to turn around, broke my sacroiliac
A mid-range migraine, cancered membrane
Sometimes I think I’m going insane
I swear I might hijack a plane![Hook]
Don’t push me, ’cause I’m close to the edge
I’m trying not to lose my head
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under[Verse 4]
My son said, Daddy, I don’t wanna go to school
’Cause the teacher’s a jerk, he must think I’m a fool
And all the kids smoke reefer, I think it’d be cheaper
If I just got a job, learned to be a street sweeper
Or dance to the beat, shuffle my feet
Wear a shirt and tie and run with the creeps
’Cause it’s all about money; ain’t a damn thing funny
You got to have a con in this land of milk and honey
They pushed that girl in front of the train
Took her to the doctor, sewed her arm on again
Stabbed that man right in his heart
Gave him a transplant for a brand new start
I can’t walk through the park, ’cause it’s crazy after dark
Keep my hand on my gun, ’cause they got me on the run
I feel like a outlaw, broke my last glass jaw
Hear them say “You want some more?”, living on a see-saw[Hook]
Don’t push me, ’cause I’m close to the edge
I’m trying not to lose my head
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going under[Verse 5]
A child is born with no state of mind
Blind to the ways of mankind
God is smiling on you, but he’s frowning too
Because only God knows what you’ll go through
You’ll grow in the ghetto living second-rate
And your eyes will sing a song called deep hate
The places you play and where you stay
Looks like one great big alleyway
You’ll admire all the number-book takers
Thugs, pimps and pushers and the big money-makers
Driving big cars, spending twenties and tens
And you’ll wanna grow up to be just like them, huh
Smugglers, scramblers, burglars, gamblers
Pickpocket peddlers, even panhandlers
You say “I’m cool, huh, I’m no fool.”
But then you wind up dropping outta high school
Now you’re unemployed, all null and void
Walking ’round like you’re Pretty Boy Floyd
Turned stick-up kid, but look what you done did
Got sent up for a eight-year bid
Now your manhood is took and you’re a Maytag
Spend the next two years as a undercover fag
Being used and abused to serve like hell
‘Til one day you was found hung dead in the cell
It was plain to see that your life was lost
You was cold and your body swung back and forth
But now your eyes sing the sad, sad song
Of how you lived so fast and died so young, so…[Hook]
Don’t push me, ’cause I’m close to the edge
I’m trying not to lose my head
It’s like a jungle sometimes
It makes me wonder how I keep from going underI’ve always been most partial to Chimes of Freedom.
I also applaud his refusal to participate. I don’t care about the personality of an artist. The best are often shits in many ways. Dylan is that, in spades. True artists are a channel I believe.
Dylan grew up during the ’50’s, when school kids (like me) were taught to “Duck and Cover” under our school desks, in the event of a nuclear attack. Not that that would have done any good. Anyway, that “Hard Rain” in Dylan’s song was (obviously) nuclear fall out. We’ve been lucky since then, not much fallout since then, just some sprinkles here and there from open air testing. Most of us from those days still have some some radioactive bits buried within us.
I always liked his “Talkin World War III Blues”. It was so positive, the lyricist somehow survived, compared to what would be left after a thermonuclear hydrogen blast. Dylan’s latest message is: It ain’t over yet especially with a guy like Trump who naively asks: “Why can’t we use nukes?”…
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