I’ve been listening to Bring It All Back Home. Had I a better voice, better guitar skills, the smallest echo of lyrical ability, or a pronity to happy accidents, this might be said to be influenced.
Chords are very simple… A D C Blues 12 bar with interlewdeling bits.
Lyrics. Mouthfuls and mouthfuls or rambling lyrics:
Well I parked up my dreams, in a house by a field, called up the the operator, said What do you need?
He said grow your own vegetables, comb your own hair, take your own advice, and don’t listen to what’s there.
I reached out for the medicine, but it fell out of sight, I reached out for everything, woke sweating in the night.
I went and took my temperature, listened to the clock, counted how many heartbeats, It took for tick to tock.
I silenced every idle thought, and read a bunch of books, that showed me all the tricks you need, to have good thoughts and looks,
And I rolled back the curtains, and squinted at the sky, and everyone I had to meet, had already gone by.
I went to the doctor and demanded what he knew. He said I have no secrets now, all them TV shows are true.
I held up my swollen limbs, and wrote my symptoms down, then I put on his rubber gloves, and gave myself a gown.
I imagined up some conditions, and cured them in a flash, I created some prescriptions,aAnd I had some peace at last.
But it turned out to be temporary, too good to be true. By the time I’d done the verse, my world once more turned blue.
I went right back to searching, for there must be a cure, for every little annoying thing, that makes it all less pure.
There’s dirt in the water, and noise on the line, there’s blood in my arteries, and stains on my mind.
But entropy keeps telling me, that all we are is dirt: Wake up your dreams from slumbering, to give it all some worth.
If you really have no little itches, you’d better check your pulse. You might have drifted off again, to a far less interesting world.
Pinch yourself to test this, Kick yourself for luck, try another experiment, Or wallow in the muck.