you tell me about politics
this that
you speak of rats.
---
geese. a world of peace
you stumble stammer
pound your fist
an’ i tell you there are no politics
you swear
tell me how much you care
---
you cheat the lunch counter man
out of a pack of cigarettes
an’ i tell you there are no politics
you tell me of goons’
graves. ginks an’ finks
an’ of what you’ve read
---
an’ how things should be
an’ what you’d do if . . .
an i say someone’s been
tamperin’ with your head
you jump
raise your voice
---
an’ gyrate yourself
t’ the tone of principles
your arm is raised
an’ i tell you there are no politics
in the afternoon you run
t’ keep appointments
---
with false lovers
an’ this leaves you
drained by nightfall
you ask me questions
an’ i say that every question
if it’s a truthful question
---
can be answered by askin’ it
you stomp
get mad
i say it’s got nothin’ t’ do with
gertrude stein
you turn your eyes
---
t’ the radio
an’ tell me what a
wasteland exists in television
you rant an’ rave
of poverty
your fingers crawl the walls
---
the screen door leaves black marks
across your nose
your breath remains on
window glass
bullfight posters hang crooked above your head
an’ the phone rings constantly
---
you tell me how much i’ve changed
as if that is all there is t’ say
out of the side of your mouth
while talkin’ on the wires
in a completely different
tone of voice
---
than you had a minute ago
when speakin’ t’ me about something else
i say what’s this about changes?
you say "let’s go get drunk"
light a cigarette
"an’ throw up on the world"
---
you go t’ your closet
mumblin’ about the phoniness of churches
an’ spastic national leaders
i say groovy but
also holy hollowness too
yes hollow holiness
---
an’ that some of my best friends
know people that go t’ church
you blow up
slam doors
say "can’t no one say nothin’ t’ you"
i say "what do You think?"
---
your face laughs
you say "oh yeeeeeaah?"
i’m gonna break up i say
an’ reach for your coat
‘neath piles of paper slogans
i say your house is dirty
---
you say you should talk
your hallway stinks as
we walk through it
your stairs tilt drastically
your railing’s rotted
an’ there’s blood at the
---
bottom of your steps
you say t’ meet bricks with bricks
i say t’ meet bricks with chalk
you tell me monster floor plans
an’ i tell you about a bookie shop
in boston givin’ odds on the presidential
---
race
i’m not gonna bet for a while i say
little children
shoot craps
in the alley garbage pot
you say "nothin’s perfect"
---
an’ i tell you again
there are no
politics
----
Bob Dylan - some other kinds of songs.