WORDS FILL MY HEAD

 

The Bootleg Series Versions

 

Hard Times In New York Town

Talking Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues

Paths Of Victory

Talkin' John Birch Paranoid Blues

Farewell Angelina

Sitting On A Barbed-Wire Fence

It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry

Santa Fé

If Not For You

Need A Woman

Someone's Got A Hold Of My Heart

Series Of Dreams

 

Hard Times In New York Town

 

Come you ladies and you gentlemen, a-listen to my song.

Sing it to you right, but you might think it's wrong.

Just a little glimpse of a story I'll tell

Bout an East Coast city that you all know well

It's hard times from the country

Livin' down in New York town.

 

Old New York City is a friendly old town,

From Washington Heights to Harlem on down.

There's a mighty many people and they're all millin' around,

They'll kick you when you're up and knock you when you're down.

It's hard times from the country

Livin' down in New York town.

 

Well, the weak and the strong, and the rich and the poor

Gather together, ain't room for no more,

Crowded up above, crowded down below,

When someone disappears, you never even know.

It's hard times from the country

Livin' down in New York town.

 

It's a mighty long ways from the Golden Gate

To Rockefeller Plaza 'n' the Empire State.

Mister Empire sets up as high as a bird,

Old Mister Rockefeller never says a word

It's hard times from the country,

Livin' down in New York town.

 

Well, it's up in the mornin' tryin' to find a job of work.

Stand in one place till your feet begin to hurt.

If you got a lot o' money you can make yourself merry,

If you only got a nickel, it's the Staten Island Ferry.

And it's hard times from the country

Livin' down in New York town.

 

Mister Hudson come a-sailin' down the stream

And old Mister Minuet paid for his dream.

Bought your city on a one-way track,

If I had my way I'd sell it right back.

And it's hard times from the country

Livin' down in New York town.

 

I'll take all the smog in Cal-i-for-ne-ay,

An' every bit of dust in the Oklahoma plains,

An' the dirt in the caves of the Rocky Mountain mines.

It's all much cleaner than the New York kind.

And it's hard times in the country

Livin' down in New York town.

 

So all you newsy people, spread the news around,

You c'n listen to m' story, listen to m' song.

You c'n step on my name, you c'n try 'n' get me beat,

When I leave New York, I'll be standin' on my feet.

And it's hard times from the country

Livin' down in New York town.

 

[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]

 

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Talking Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues

 

Well, I saw it advertised one day,

That the Bear Mountain picnic was comin' my way.

"Come along 'n' take a trip,

We'll bring you up there on a ship.

Bring the wife and family.

Bring the whole ... kids."

Yippee!

 

Well, I run right down 'n' bought a ticket

To this thing called the Bear Mountain Picnic.

Little did I realize

I was in for a pleasant funny surprise.

Had nothin' to do with picnics.

Didn't come close to a mountain.

I hate bears.

 

Took the wife 'n' kids down to the pier,

There were six thousand people there,

Everybody had a ticket for the trip.

"Oh well", I said, "it's a pretty big ship.

Besides, anyhow, the more the merrier."

 

Well, we all got on 'n' what d'ya think,

That big old boat started t' sink.

More people kept a-pilin' on,

That old ship was a-goin' down.

Funny way t' start a picnic.

 

Well, I soon lost track of m' kids 'n' wife,

So many people I never saw in m' life.

That old ship was sinkin' down in the water,

There were six thousand people tryin' t' kill each other,

Dogs a-barkin', cats a-screamin',

Women a-yellin', men a-flyin', fists a-flyin', babies flyin',

Cops a-comin', me a-runnin'.

Maybe we just better call off the picnic.

 

I got shoved down, got pushed around

All I remember was a moanin' sound.

Don't remember one thing more,

All I remember was wakin' up on the shore,

My arms and legs were broken,

My feet were splintered, my head was cracked,

I couldn't walk, couldn't talk, smell, feel,

Couldn't see, I didn't know where I was,

I was bald

Quite lucky to be alive though.

 

Well, feelin' like I just climbed outa m' casket,

I grabbed back hold of m' picnic basket.

Took the wife 'n' kids 'n' started home,

Wishin' I'd never got up that mornin'.

 

Now, I don't care just what you do,

If you wanta have a picnic, that's up t' you.

But don't tell me about it, I don't wanta hear it,

Cause, see, I just lost all my picnic spirit.

Stay in m' kitchen, have a picnic in m' bathroom.

 

Now, it don't seem to me quite so funny

What some people are gonna do f'r money.

There's a bran' new gimmick every day

Just t' take somebody's money away.

I think we oughta take some o' these people

And put 'em on a boat, send 'em up to Bear Mountain ...

For a picnic.

 

[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]

 

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Paths Of Victory

 

The trail is dark and dusty

And the road is kind of rough,

But the good road is a-waitin'

And boys it aint far off.

 

Trails of troubles, roads of battles,

Paths of victory, we shall walk.

 

I walked down to the valley        

I turned my head up high.

I seen that silver linin'

That was hangin' in the sky.

 

Trails of troubles, roads of battles,

Paths of victory, we shall walk.

 

The evenin' dusk was rollin'

I was walking down the track.

There was a one-way wind a-blowin'

And it was blowin' at my back.

 

Trails of troubles, roads of battles,

Paths of victory, we shall walk.

 

The gravel road is bumpy,

It's a hard old road to ride,

But the clearer road's off yonder,

With the cinders on the side.

 

Trails of troubles, roads of battles,

Paths of victory, we shall walk.

 

The mornin' train was movin',

The hummin' of it's wheels,

Told me of a new day

Comin' across the fields.

 

Trails of troubles, roads of battles,

Paths of victory, we shall walk.

 

[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]

 

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Talkin' John Birch Paranoid Blues

 

Well, I was feelin' sad and kind of blue,

I didn't know what I wus gonna do.

The Communists wus a-comin' around,

They wus in the air,

They wus on the ground.

They wus all over ...

 

So I run down most hurriedly

And joined the John Birch Society.

Got me a secret membership card

And went back home to the yard

Started lookin' on the side-walk

Under the hedges ...

 

Well, I got up in the mornin' 'n' looked under my bed,

I wus lookin' everyplace for them gol-damned Reds.

Looked behind the sink and under the floor

Looked in the glove compartment of my car.

Couldn't find any ...

 

Looked behind the clothes, behind the chair

Lookin' for them Reds everywhere,

Looked way up my chimney hole,

Even looked deep down inside my toilet bowl.

They got away ...

 

I heard some footsteps by the front porch door

So I grabbed my shot gun from the floor

Snuck around the house with a huff and a hiss

Sayin' "Hands up, you Communist!"

It was the mailman.

He punched me out ...

 

Well, I wus sittin' home alone an' I started to sweat,

I figured they wus in my TV set.

I peeked behind the picture frame,

Got a shock from my feet, that hit my brain.

Them Reds did it!

Hootenanny television!

 

Well, I quit my job so I could work alone,

Got a magnifying glass like Sherlock Holmes.

Followed some clues from my detective bag

And discovered red stripes on the American Flag!

Betsy Ross ...

 

Now, Eisenhower he's a Russian spy,

Lincoln and Jefferson and that Roosevelt guy.

To my knowledge there's just one man

That's really an' truly an American: that's George Lincoln Rockwell.

I know for a fact he hates Commies cus he picketed the movie Exodus.

 

Well, I fin'ly started thinkin' straight

When I run outa things to investigate.

I couldn't imagine nothin' else,

So now I'm home investigatin' myself!

Hope I don't find out too much ... Good God!

 

[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]

 

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Farewell Angelina

 

Farewell Angelina

The bells of the crown

Are being stolen by bandits

I must follow the sound

The triangle tingles

The music plays slow

But farewell Angelina

The night is on fire

And I must go.

 

There is no use in talking

And there's no need for blame

There is nothing to prove

Ev'rything still is the same

A table stands empty

By the edge of the stream

But farewell Angelina

The sky's changin' colors

And I must leave.

 

The jacks and the queens

They've forsaked the courtyard

Fifty-two gypsies

Now file past the guard

In the space where the deuce

And the ace once ran wild

Farewell Angelina

The sky is folding

I'll see you after a while.

 

See the cross-eyed pirates

Sit perched in the sun

Shooting tin cans

With a sawed-off shotgun

And the cockerels and the neighbors

Clap and cheer with each blast

But farewell Angelina

The sky it is trembling

And I must leave fast.

 

King Kong, little elves

In the rooftops they dance

Valentino-type tangos

While the heroes clean hands

Shut the eyes of the dead

Not to embarrass anyone

Farewell Angelina

The sky is flooding over

And I must be gone.

 

The camouflaged parrot

He flutters from fear

When something he doesn't know about

Suddenly appears

What cannot be imitated perfect

Must die

Farewell Angelina

The sky's flooding over

And I must go where it is dry.

 

Machine guns are roaring

Puppets heave rocks

At misunderstood visions

And at the faces of clocks

Call me any name you like

I will never deny it

But farewell Angelina

The sky is erupting

And I must go where it is quiet.

 

[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]

 

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Sitting On A Barbed-Wire Fence

 

I paid fifteen million dollars, twelve hundred and seventy-two cents

I paid one thousand two hundred twenty-seven dollars and fifty-five cents

See my bull dog bite a rabbit

And my hound dog's sittin' on a barbed-wire fence

 

All right!

 

Well, my temperature rises and my feet can't walk so hot

Yes, my temperature rises and my feet can't walk so hot

Well, this Arabian doctor comes in, gives me a shot

But wouldn't tell what it was that I got

 

Well, this woman I've got, she's killing me alive

Yes, this woman I've got, she's killing me alive

She is making me into an old man,

And, man, I'm not even twenty-five

 

Of course, you're gonna think this song is a riff

I know you're gonna think this song is a riff

Unless you've been inside a tunnel

And fell down 69, 70 feet over a barbed-wire fence

 

All right!

 

[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]

 

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It Takes A Lot To Laugh, It Takes A Train To Cry

 

Well, I ride on a mailtrain, baby,

Can't buy no thrill.

Yes, I've been up all night, baby,

Leanin' on the windowsill.

Well, if I die

On top of the hill

And if I don't make it,

You know my baby will.

 

Don't the moon look good, mama,

Shinin' down through the trees?

Don't the ghost child look good, baby

Sitting on his madman's knee?

Don't the sun look good

Goin' down over the sea?

Don't my gal look fine

When she's comin' after me?

 

All right!

 

Well, I've just been to the baggage car

Where the engineer's been tossed

I sent out for the compasses

Sure don't know what they cost.

Well, I wanna be your lover, baby,

I don't wanna be your boss.

I can't help it none

If this train gets lost.

 

[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]

 

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Santa Fé

 

Santa Fé

Dear dear dear dear dear Santa Fé

My woman needs every day

She promised to let me stay

She's rolling up a knot to pray to Gods away

She's in Santa Fé

Dear dear dear dear dear Santa Fé

 

Now she opens up and lets me home

She's brown but she keeps from roam

She'll open up a happy home

She'll think when will that be warm in Santa Fé

 

Santa Fé,

Dear dear dear dear Santa Fé

She's arms never teach to roam

They're never never far from home

I'll never ever ever roam

To sail away

She's all feel bad

No no no no don't don't don't feel bad

She's the worst thing he's ever had

She's a mad, man that he's so glad

She's over above the hat to bad

She's never disappear so bad

I went away

 

Santa Fé,

Dear dear dear dear dear dear Santa Fé

My own heart city lay

I won't have a nature way

And I'm leavin every day to run away

From Santa Fé, dear dear dear dear dear Santa Fé

 

My woman's left sittin at home

She's actin' the police unknown

She cried like an evening stone

She leap back under a broom

But she ain't gonna find a room

And the tears send her on own ever day

 

[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]

 

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If Not For You

 

If not for you,

Babe, I couldn't find the door,

Couldn't even see the floor,

I'd be sad and blue,

If not for you.

 

If not for you,

The night would see me wide awake

The day would surely have to break

But it would not be new,

If not for you.

 

If not for you,

My sky would fall,

Rain would gather too.

Without your love I'd be nowhere at all,

I'd be lost if not for you.

 

If not for you,

The winter would hold no spring,

Couldn't hear the robin sing,

I just wouldn't have a clue,

If not for you.

 

[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]

 

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Need A Woman

 

Lately I've been having evil dreams, I wake up in a cold blue glare.

I run the tape back in my mind, wonder if I took the wrong road somewhere.

Searching for the truth the way God designed it

While the real truth is that I may be afraid to find it.

 

Well, I need a woman, all right

Need a woman, every night.

To be with me and know me as I am

To show me the kind of love that don't have to be condemned

And I want you to be that woman every day

Be that woman every way.

 

I've had my eyes on you baby, for five long years.

Well, you probably don't know me at all

But I've seen your laughter and I've seen your tears.

Tell tale heart will show itself to anybody near

There's always some new stranger in the night to lend a sympathetic ear.

 

Well, I need a woman, to heed my home

I need a woman, that's mine alone.

Seen you in a doorway, I seen you in the park

Seen you in the sunshine, I seen you in the dark.

And I want you to be that woman every day

Be that woman every way.

 

You keep listening to something long enough

You're just bound to believe that it's true

You know there's somethings that you put out

Its gonna come back on you

That which is not permanent don't last

Whatever's waiting in the future could be what you're running from in the past

 

Be that woman... (??)

Be that woman take it from the Savior

 

Someone who likes simple things, is not afraid to bend

Someone who don't make herself up to make every man her friend

And I want you to be that woman every day

Be that woman every way

 

Don't know what you got that I want

Don't know what I got to give

Don't know how much time that I've got

Don't know how long I'll live

The rebellion in my soul, why was it created?

To blur the focus of my mind and keep me isolated

 

But I need a woman, yeah don't I?

Need a woman, all the time

To see the promised land with me as the time goes by

To rule my heart with sweetness and boldness from on high

And I want you to be that woman yes I do

Be that woman straight and true.

 

[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]

 

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Someone's Got A Hold Of My Heart

 

They say eat, drink and be merry

Take the bull by the horn

I keep seeing visions of you

A lily among thorns

Everything looks a little far away too me

Getting harder and harder to recognize the track

Too much information about nothing

Too much educated rap

Just like you told me

It's just like you said it would be

 

Well, the moon's goin' up like wildfire

I feel the breath of a storm

There's something I gotta do tonight

You go inside and stay warm

 

Someone got a hold of my heart

Someone got a hold of my heart

Someone got a hold of my heart

You, you, you, you got a hold of my heart

 

Just got back from a city, city of red skies

Everybody thinks with their stomach

And there's plenty of spies

Every street is crooked

They just wind around until they disappear

Madame Butterfly she lulls me to sleep

Like an ancient river

So wide and so deep

She said be easy baby

Ain't nothing worth stealing in here

 

You're the one I been waiting for

You're the one that I desire

But you must realize first

I'm not another man you can hire

 

Someone got a hold of my heart

Someone got a hold of my heart

Someone got a hold of my heart

You, you, you, you got a hold of my heart

 

I can hear that hot blooded singer on the bandstand croon

Poisoned Love, Red Roses For A Blue Lady and Memphis In June

While they're beating the devil

Out of a guy who's wearing a powder blue wig

I been to Babylon, I gotta confess

I can still hear that voice crying in the wilderness

What looks large from a distance

Close up is never that big

Never could learn to drink that blood and call it wine

Never could learn to look at your face and call it mine

 

Someone got a hold of my heart

Someone got a hold of my heart

Someone got a hold of my heart

You, you, you, you got a hold of my heart

 

[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]

 

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Series Of Dreams

 

I was thinking of a series of dreams

Where nothing comes up to the top

Everything stays down where it's wounded

And comes to a permanent stop

Wasn't thinking of anything specific

Like in a dream where someone wakes up and screams

Nothing too very scientific

Just thinking of a series of dreams

 

Thinking of a series of dreams

Where the time and the tempo drag

And there's no exit in any direction

Except the one that you can't see with your eyes

Wasn't making any great connection

Wasn't falling for any intricate scheme

Nothing that would pass inspection

I was just thinking of a series of dreams

 

Dreams where the umbrella is folded

And into the path you are hurled

And the cards are no good that you're holding

Unless they're from another world

 

In one the surface was frozen

In another I witnessed a crime

In one I was running and in another

All I seemed to be doing was crying

Wasn't looking for any special assistance

Nor going through any great extremes

I'd already gone the distance

Just thinking of a series of dreams

 

Dreams where the umbrella is folded

And into the path you are hurled

And the cards are no good that you're holding

Unless they're from another world

 

I'd already gone the distance

Just thinking of a series of dreams

Just thinking of a series of dreams

Just thinking of a series of dreams

 

[Source: The Bootleg Series Vol. 1–3]

 

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This page last updated 20 May 2001.