Thursday, November 01, 2007

joan baez
Now, little boy lost
He takes himself so seriously
He brags of his misery
He likes to live dangerously
And when bringing her name up
He speaks of a farewell kiss to me
He's sure got a lotta gall
To be so useless and all
Muttering small talk at the wall
While I'm in the hall.
How can I explain?
Oh, it's so hard to get on
And these visions of Johanna,
They kept me up past the dawn.

Bob Dylan, from Visions of Johanna, 1966