Bob Dylan ☆ Tangled Up In Blue

There’s a long-distance train rolling through the rain, tears on the letter I write.
There’s a woman I long to touch and I’m missing her so much, but she’s drifting like a satellite.
There’s a neon light ablaze in a green smoky haze, and laughter down on
Elizabeth Street
And a lonesome bell tone in that valley of stone where she bathed in a stream of pure heat.
Her father would emphasize you got to be more than street-wise but he practiced what he preached from the heart.
A full-blooded Cherokee, he predicted to me the time and the place that we’d part.

There’s a babe in the arms of a woman in a rage
And a longtime golden-haired stripper onstage
As she winds back the clock and she turns back the page
Of a book that nobody can write.
Oh, where are you tonight?

The truth was obscure, too profound and too pure, to live it you have to explode.
In that last hour of need, we entirely agreed, sacrifice was the code of the road.
I left town at dawn, with Marcel and St. John, strong men belittled by doubt.
I couldn’t tell her what my private thoughts were but she had some way of finding them out.
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