Well, the night you was born
Lord I swear the moon turned a fire red
The night you was born
I swear the moon turned a fire red
Many a poor mother cried out lord, the gypsy was right!
That gypsy woman that told your Pa
Gonna be mystic, gonna go far.
Got born east of Main Street under a shooting star
You could steal Groucho Marx’s cigar
And smile
.................
given the wonders of time-zones i may not have completely missed bob dylan's birthday,
so happy birthday bob!
this is an obvious enough choice of song but it's a real favourite of mine
and who else can take a song that stretches a shaggy dog tale
from ancient egypt to the arctic via f. scott fitzgerald
and use it to create an alchemical tract about marriage - huh?
(vid and lyrics below)
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carisma_sensei
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