Bob Dylans Blues — текст песни (Bob Dylan)

Well, the lone ranger and tonto

They are ridin down the line

Fixin evrybodys troubles

Evrybodys cept mine

Somebody musta tol em

That I was doin fine



Oh you five and ten cent women

With nothin in your heads

I got a real gal Im lovin

And lord Ill love her till Im dead

Go away from my door and my window too

Right now



Lord, I aint goin down to no race track

See no sports car run

I dont have no sports car

And I dont even care to have one

I can walk anytime around the block



Well, the wind keeps a-blowin me

Up and down the street

With my hat in my hand

And my boots on my feet

Watch out so you dont step on me



Well, lookit here buddy

You want to be like me

Pull out your six-shooter

And rob every bank you can see

Tell the judge I said it was all right

Yes!