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I SHALL BE FREE NO 10 LYRICS - 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 than 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 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
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
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