Got the Bob Dylan blues & the Bob Dylan shoes
& my clothes & my hair's in a mess, but you know I just couldn't care less

Gonna write me a song bout what's right & what's wrong
Bout God & my girl & all that, quiet while I make like a cat

Cause I'm a poet, don't ya know it & the wind, you can blow it
Cause I'm Mr. Dylan the king & I'm free as a bird on the wing

Roam from town to town, guess I get people down
But I don't care too much about that cause my gut & my wallet are fat

Make a whole lotta dough, but I deserve it though
I've got soul & a good heart of gold, so I'll sing about war in the cold

Cause I'm a poet, don't ya know it & the wind, you can blow it
Cause I'm Mr. Dylan the king & I'm free as a bird on the wing

Well I sing about dreams & I rhymes it with seems
Cause it seems that my dream always means that I can prophesy all kinds of things

Well the guy that digs me should try hard to see
That he buys all my discs & a hat & when I'm in town go see that

Cause I'm a poet, don't ya know it & the wind, you can blow it
Cause I'm Mr. Dylan the king & I'm free as a bird on the wing

See also:
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