I Shall Be Free No.10 - Bob Dylan
    I'm just average, common too

    I'm just like him, the same as you
    I'm everybody's brother and son
    I ain't different from anyone
    It ain't no use a-talking to me
    It's just the same as talking to you.

    I was shadow-boxing earlier in the day
    I figured I was ready for Cassius Clay
    I said "Fee, fie, fo, fum, Cassius Clay, here I come
    26, 27, 28, 29, I'm gonna make your face look just like mine
    Five, four, three, two, one, Cassius Clay you'd better run
    99, 100, 101, 102, your ma won't even recognize you
    14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, gonna knock him clean right out of his spleen."

    Well, I don't know, but I've been told
    The streets in heaven are lined with gold
    I ask you how things could get much worse
    If the Russians happen to get up there first.
    Wowee' pretty scary!

    Now, I'm liberal, but to a degree
    I want ev'rybody to be free
    But if you think that I'll let Barry Goldwater
    Move in next door and marry my daughter
    You must think I'm crazy!
    I wouldn't let him do it for all the farms in Cuba.

    Well, I set my monkey on the log
    And ordered him to do the Dog
    He wagged his tail and shook his head
    And he went and did the Cat instead
    He's a weird monkey, very funky.

    I sat with my high-heeled sneakers on
    Waiting to play tennis in the noonday sun
    I had my white shorts rolled up past my waist
    And my wig-hat was falling in my face
    But they wouldn't let me on the tennis court.

    I gotta woman, she's so mean
    She sticks my boots in the washing machine
    Sticks me with buckshot when I'm nude
    Puts bubblegum in my food
    She's funny, wants my money, calls me "honey."

    Now I gotta friend who spends his life
    Stabbing my picture with a bowie-knife
    Dreams of strangling me with a scarf
    When my name comes up he pretends to barf.
    I've got a million friends!

    Now they asked me to read a poem
    At the sorority sister's home
    I got knocked down and my head was swimmin'
    I wound up with the Dean of Women
    Yippee! I'm a poet, and I know it.
    Hope I don't blow it.

    I'm gonna grow my hair down to my feet so strange
    So I look like a walking mountain range
    And I'm gonna ride into Omaha on a horse
    Out to the country club and the golf course.
    Carry the New York Times, shoot a few holes, blow their minds.

    Now you're probably wondering by now
    Just what this song is all about
    What's probably got you baffled more
    Is what this thing here is for.
    It's nothing
    It's something I learned over in England.


    Marco Giunco
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