Try not to drive, y’hear? <\/p>\n
What can I tell you? What can I possibly say? Oh, no, that’s Leonard Cohen, and I’m thinking of Bob Dylan.<\/p>\n
It was good to see the movie “No Direction Home”<\/a> on PBS tonight. I saw the first half of it anyway, and I’ll be watching the second. Fragments of the old and the contemporary – it all made me feel an odd mixture of hopefulness and sadness. Bob Dylan seemed so very fragile in his strength, no definitive person, yet very singular – what a figure. I used to read Dylan’s lyrics as poetry, at first because I sometimes couldn’t understand the words he was singing unless I could see his face. It used to annoy me when he’d sing songs differently each time, but now I enjoy it. I suppose I’ve heard enough versions of many of them for there to be a widely varying one in my memories – a good effect of its own. <\/p>\n It struck me that there are some similarities between the American mental landscape now and that time in the fifties and very early sixties – the fear of nuclear war, but still riding on the tail end of post-WWII prosperity, the conformity, the deadness. Is there anywhere in America now like New York’s Greenwich Village was then, I mean, in its essence? How did all these amazing people find their way there? Where is the place in America now? Where are the young people of such promise now? Please comment if you know. They all seem so young.<\/p>\n In the film, Liam Clancy says that Dylan was able to articulate “what the rest of us wanted to say \u00e2\u20ac\u201d but couldn’t.” I had never heard Masters of War<\/a>. It goes well with Only a Pawn in their Game<\/a>) (then and now). Here it is, for some small comfort to those taken hostage by masters of war and deceit, in America, again. <\/p>\n Masters of War<\/em>, Bob Dylan<\/p>\n Come you masters of war You that never done nothin’ Like Judas of old You fasten the triggers You’ve thrown the worst fear How much do I know Let me ask you one question And I hope that you die Copyright \u00c2\u00a9 1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music<\/p><\/blockquote>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Try not to drive, y’hear? What can I tell you? What can I possibly say? Oh, no, that’s Leonard Cohen, and I’m thinking of Bob Dylan. It was good to see the movie “No Direction Home” on PBS tonight. I saw the first half of it anyway, and I’ll be watching the second. Fragments of the old and the contemporary – it all made me feel an odd mixture of hopefulness and sadness. Bob Dylan seemed so very fragile in…<\/p>\n
\nYou that build all the guns
\nYou that build the death planes
\nYou that build the big bombs
\nYou that hide behind walls
\nYou that hide behind desks
\nI just want you to know
\nI can see through your masks<\/p>\n
\nBut build to destroy
\nYou play with my world
\nLike it’s your little toy
\nYou put a gun in my hand
\nAnd you hide from my eyes
\nAnd you turn and run farther
\nWhen the fast bullets fly<\/p>\n
\nYou lie and deceive
\nA world war can be won
\nYou want me to believe
\nBut I see through your eyes
\nAnd I see through your brain
\nLike I see through the water
\nThat runs down my drain<\/p>\n
\nFor the others to fire
\nThen you set back and watch
\nWhen the death count gets higher
\nYou hide in your mansion
\nAs young people’s blood
\nFlows out of their bodies
\nAnd is buried in the mud<\/p>\n
\nThat can ever be hurled
\nFear to bring children
\nInto the world
\nFor threatening my baby
\nUnborn and unnamed
\nYou ain’t worth the blood
\nThat runs in your veins<\/p>\n
\nTo talk out of turn
\nYou might say that I’m young
\nYou might say I’m unlearned
\nBut there’s one thing I know
\nThough I’m younger than you
\nEven Jesus would never
\nForgive what you do<\/p>\n
\nIs your money that good
\nWill it buy you forgiveness
\nDo you think that it could
\nI think you will find
\nWhen your death takes its toll
\nAll the money you made
\nWill never buy back your soul<\/p>\n
\nAnd your death’ll come soon
\nI will follow your casket
\nIn the pale afternoon
\nAnd I’ll watch while you’re lowered
\nDown to your deathbed
\nAnd I’ll stand o’er your grave
\n‘Til I’m sure that you’re dead<\/p>\n