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Are You Ready? Can You Take It? THE BOB DYLAN THREAD

 
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Tue 23 May, 2006 09:42 pm
NEW YORK (Reuters) - Bob Dylan has announced no plans for his 65th birthday on Wednesday, but around the world and in the hometown he couldn't wait to escape, the musician who has insistently resisted labels will be celebrated as the voice of a generation.

Dylan's spokesman, Elliott Mintz, responded to questions about Dylan's birthday and touring plans by saying only that he had passed along the inquiry.

But a new compilation book of Dylan interviews has been published for the occasion, radio stations from Norway to Australia will air salutes, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame has mounted a special exhibit and in his hometown of Hibbing, Minnesota, residents are baking cakes in hopes he may return.

The singer-songwriter who is also an author, filmmaker, actor and, most recently, radio disc-jockey has changed his name, religion and musical styles along the way. He has sometimes shocked his fans but always kept them guessing, while writing culture-changing songs like "Blowin' in the Wind" and "Like a Rolling Stone."

"May you stay forever young" was his fond wish for his audience, and "He not busy being born is busy dying" his credo. At retirement age, with hundreds of songs and nearly 50 albums behind him, he is still constantly touring, with a European swing about to begin.

"I don't see why you can't last as long as you want to last," he is quoted as saying in "Bob Dylan, The Essential Interviews," edited by Jonathan Cott.

"All I can do is be me -- whoever that is," he says.

The book traces Dylan's progress from a kid besotted with 1950s rock 'n' roll to a young folkie who gave voice to the anti-war, anti-racism youth movement of the 1960s.

He quickly renounced the title "protest singer" and became an electric rocker on a personal exploration of Christianity, Judaism and many other issues of identity.

DYLAN DAYS

"The second we all think we get to know him and what he stands for, he throws us a curve ball," says Warren Zanes, of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum in Cleveland, Ohio, where the top two floors are devoted to "Bob Dylan's American Journey: 1956-1966."

The 15-week exhibit, which just began, includes a high-school yearbook in which senior Bobby Zimmerman tells the girl who sat in front of him in math class how pretty she is -- and how he probably will never see her again.

Hoping to see him again are the folks in Hibbing, where the Dylan Days celebration started informally in 1991 at Zimmy's Fine Bar and Restaurant -- "the world's only Bob Dylan tribute bar and restaurant."

There will be concerts and readings, a bus tour of Hibbing and a one-day-only opportunity for fans to get their mail stamped with a special U.S. Postal Service design.

And of course there's birthday cake. "We have cake all over town," said Zimmy's co-owner Linda Hocking. "We'd love to see him here this year," she said, adding that this was the first year Dylan was not touring during "Dylan Days."

The Internet is also Dylan country. One Web site, Expecting Rain, http://www.expectingrain.com/, compiles 10 to 20 items per day of interest to Dylan fans.

With an 850-entry "Bob Dylan Encyclopedia" due in mid-June, the fascination with Dylan shows no sign of letting up.

"It's hard to believe he's a senior citizen because he really is 'Forever Young,' even when he's cranky -- and he can be cranky quite a bit," said Cott.
0 Replies
 
babsatamelia
 
  1  
Reply Tue 23 May, 2006 10:51 pm
I was young when I left home
I been out a'ramblin round
and I never wrote a letter to my home
to my home, lawd to my home
I never wrote a letter fto my home.

It was just the other day
I was bringing on my pay
when I met an old friend i used to know
said your mothers dead and gone
little sister's all gone wrong
and your daddy needs you home right away

not a shirt on my back
no a penny on my name
and i can't go home this a'way, this a'way
lawd lawd lawd
i cant go home this a way.

if you miss the train i'm on
count the days i'm gone
you will hear that whistle blow 100 miles
100 miles honey baby
lord lord lord
an' you'll hear that whistle blow 100 miles

i played out on the track
mo come and brought me back
on them trestles down by old jim mccanes

when i pay the debt i owe
to the comissary store
i will pawn my watch & chain
and go home, go home
lawd lawd lawd
i will pawn my watch and chain
and go home

used to tell my ma sometimes
when i see them riding blind
gonna make me a home out in the wind
in the wind lawd in the wind
make me a home out in the wind

i don't like it in the wind
i wanna go back home again
but i cant go home this a'way
this a'way
lawd lawds lawd
and i can't go home this a'way

i was young when I left home
and i been out ramblin 'round
and i never wrote a letter to my home
to my home lord lord lord
and i never wrote a letter to my home
----------------------------------
Bob Dylan was the voice of my generation
a generation nobody can understand today
I've never stopped admiring his music, his voice, his songs
0 Replies
 
Rod3
 
  1  
Reply Thu 3 Aug, 2006 01:50 am
Bob Dylan's New Orleans Rag

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------


I was sittin' on a stump down in New Orleans
I was feelin' kinda low down, dirty an' mean
Along come a fella an' he didn't even ask
He said, "I know of a woman who can fix you up fast.''

Well i didn't think twice, i just said like i should
"Let's go find this lady who can do me some good.''
We walked across Rampart on a sailin' spree
An' we come to a door called one-oh-three.

I's just about ready to give my little knock
When out comes a fella who couldn't even walk
He's linkin' an' a-slinkin', couldn't stand on his feet
An' he moaned an' he groaned an' he shuffled down the street.

Well, out of the door there comes another man
He couldn't even talk an' he couldn't even stand
He moaned an' he groaned an' he shuffled his feet
An' he slid slidin' backwards down on Rampart street.

Well, i peeked thru the key hole an' comin' down the hall
Was a long legged man who could hardly crawl
He had a terrible mean look in his eye
Like he'd just fall to burn, he's was ready to die.

Well somebody else with his hell of a miss
Fell out of the window an' he fell the test
Well he slid an' he slunk in broken french
An' he looked like he'd been thru a monkey wrench.

Well, by this time i was scared to knock
I was scared to move, i's in a state of shock
I hummed a little tune an' i shuffled my feet
An' i started walkin' backwards down Rampart street.

Well, i got to the corner i tried my best smile
I turned around the corner an' i ran a bloody mile
Man, i was around for to meet my wife
I's just a runnin' for to save my life.

Well, there's coughin' in my ears an' wheezin' in my chest
I musta run a mile in a minute or less
I tripped on a log an' i flumped on a stump
I caught a fast freight train with a one-arm jump.

So if you're travellin' down Louisiana way
An' you're feelin' kinda lonesome an' you need a place to stay
Man, you're better off in your misery
Than to tackle that lady in one-oh-three.
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Thu 3 Aug, 2006 06:37 pm
HAZEL


Hazel, dirty-blonde hair
I wouldn't be ashamed to be seen with you anywhere.
You got something I want plenty of
Ooh, a little touch of your love.

Hazel, stardust in your eye
You're goin' somewhere and so am I.
I'd give you the sky high above
Ooh, for a little touch of your love.

Oh no, I don't need any reminder
To know how much I really care
But it's just making me blinder and blinder
Because I'm up on a hill and still you're not there.

Hazel, you called and I came,
Now don't make me play this waiting game.
You've got something I want plenty of
Ooh, a little touch of your love.
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Wed 30 Aug, 2006 04:37 am
Aug. 29, 2006, 5:35PM
Progress suits Bob Dylan in Modern Times
Bob Dylan
Modern Times


By ANDREW DANSBY
Copyright 2006 Houston Chronicle

If "Love and Theft" was, as titled, Bob Dylan's album about love and theft (of the blues) and Time Out of Mind was his album about death and theft (having had a personal brush with the reaper), then the new Modern Times is his love and death record.

The album is loaded with romantic boasts and apocalyptic visions. It's lovely and scary and more than a little funny.

Opener Thunder on the Mountain incorporates all three. "I've been sitting down studying the art of love," he informs. "I think it will fit me like a glove." Then, undoubtedly with a smirk, he gets it on. "I got the pork chop, she got the pie. She ain't no angel, but neither am I."

The song, which speeds along a rhythm pinched from Johnny B. Goode, curiously name-checks R&B star Alicia Keys, who serves as some sort of contemporary Helen of Troy. There's lots of travel, and it's all overseen by the eye of some sort of god, albeit an old-school mallet-toting deity. "The hammer's on the table," he sings, "the pitchfork's on the shelf."

He's smitten again on the loungey shuffle Spirit on the Water ("You got a face that begs for love"), though previous sins get in the way: "I wanna be with you in paradise / and it seems so unfair / I can't go to paradise no more / I killed a man back there."

Still, he turns confident and committed on When the Deal Goes Down. "We live and we die / we know not why / but I'll be with you when the deal goes down."

Midalbum Dylan veers away from his amorous pursuits to address some working-class ennui. "The buying power of the proletariat's gone down," he quips on Workingman's Blues #2.

By calling this Dylan's love and death record, I've skipped the theft. It's still here, beautifully disguised, as always. In addition to the Chuck Berry reference, there are the obvious blues tips all over the album, none more blatant than his rewrite of Rollin' and Tumblin'. Dylan also offers subtler nods to Memphis Minnie on The Levee's Gonna Break and to ragtime king Johnny Maddox on Nettie Moore.

A few songs feel more poetic, less bluesy. His best vocal is on the somber, jazzy Beyond the Horizon, a testament to love's scrappy ability to endure.

The starkest set of lyrics is found on the closer, Ain't Talkin', an epic song set in the "mystic garden." Dylan introduces it with a spare piano line poached from his own discography: Ballad of a Thin Man.

But the tune veers into dreamlike and big-question territory that's quite different from Thin Man's pointed rant. Ain't Talkin' carries the heavy baggage of the entire album: the love and the death (questions of faith are substituted for the funny).

"I am a-tryin' to love my neighbor and do good unto others," he says. "But oh, mother, things ain't going well."

Modern Times takes an hour, but it will give Dylan hawks' years of enjoyable dissection. Is the title a reference to Charlie Chaplin's classic silent film about the stomping march of progress? Anxiety about time's relentless trudge abounds on these 10 songs. Musically Dylan and his airtight band also sound live and tinker-free; maybe the title is a reaction to the digitized business of making music in the 21st century.

But Modern Times should be enjoyed on its merits, which are plentiful. After cratering in the '90s, Dylan covered a bunch of old folk songs, danced with death and came out of it creatively revitalized.

Temptation is to treat Modern Times, "Love and Theft" and Time Out of Mind as some sort of late-career trilogy (as I sort of did in the first paragraph of this review). But packaging these records as a completed trilogy suggests closure. And that's selling Dylan short.
0 Replies
 
Gelisgesti
 
  1  
Reply Wed 30 Aug, 2006 06:44 am
As I went out one morning
To breathe the air around Tom Paine's,
I spied the fairest damsel
That ever did walk in chains.
I offer'd her my hand,
She took me by the arm.
I knew that very instant,
She meant to do me harm.

"Depart from me this moment,"
I told her with my voice.
Said she, "But I don't wish to,"
Said I, "But you have no choice."
"I beg you, sir," she pleaded
From the corners of her mouth,
"I will secretly accept you
And together we'll fly south."

Just then Tom Paine, himself,
Came running from across the field,
Shouting at this lovely girl
And commanding her to yield.
And as she was letting go her grip,
Up Tom Paine did run,
"I'm sorry, sir," he said to me,
"I'm sorry for what she's done."
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Sat 2 Sep, 2006 03:47 pm
The man in me will do nearly any task,
And as for compensation, there's little he would ask.
Take a woman like you
To get through to the man in me.

Storm clouds are raging all around my door,
I think to myself I might not take it any more.
Take a woman like your kind
To find the man in me.

But, oh, what a wonderful feeling
Just to know that you are near,
Sets my a heart a-reeling
From my toes up to my ears.

The man in me will hide sometimes to keep from bein' seen,
But that's just because he doesn't want to turn into some machine.
Took a woman like you
To get through to the man in me.
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Wed 6 Sep, 2006 04:58 pm
New Dylan album hits #1. First time since "Desire," I think.
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Tue 17 Oct, 2006 04:53 am
Twyla Tharp's Broadway Dylan show set to open. More than two dozen of his songs used in the production of Times They Are a Changing.
0 Replies
 
Roxxxanne
 
  1  
Reply Tue 17 Oct, 2006 05:49 pm
Still getting chills just thinking about seeing Dylan last night at the Bill Graham, he opened with Rollin and a Tumblin, then he came back to do an encore with Thunder on the Mountain, he did an awesome blues rock version of Don't Think Twice, an incredibly hot and romantic, Ill Be Your Baby Tonight...

"Thunder On The Mountain"

Thunder on the mountain, and there's fires on the moon
A ruckus in the alley and the sun will be here soon
Today's the day, where I'm gonna grab my trombone and blow
Well, there's hot stuff here and it's everywhere I go

I was thinking about Alicia Keys, couldn't keep from crying
When she was born in Hell's Kitchen, I was living down the line
I'm wondering where in the world Alicia Keys could be
I been looking for her even clear through Tennessee

Feel like my soul is beginning to expand
Look into my heart and you will sort of understand
You brought me here, now you're trying to turn me away
The writing on the wall, come read it, come see what it does say

Thunder on the mountain, rolling like a drum
Going to sleep over there, that's where the music is coming from
I don't need any guide, I already know the way
Remember this, I'm your servant both night and day

The pistols are popping and the power is down
I'd like to try something but I'm so far from town
The sun keeps shining and the North Wind keeps picking up speed
Gonna forget about myself for a while, gonna go out and see what others need

I've been sitting down studying the art of love
I think it will fit me like a glove
I want some real good woman to do just what I say
Everybody got to wonder what's the matter with this cruel world today

Thunder on the mountain rolling to the ground
Gonna get up in the morning walk the hard road down
Some sweet day I'll stand beside my King
I wouldn't betray your love or any other thing

Gonna raise me an army, some tough sons of bitches
I'll recruit my army from the orphanages
I been to St. Herman's church, said my religious vows
As I've sucked the milk out of a thousand cows

I've got the pork chops, she's got the pie
She ain't no angel and neither am I
Shame on your greed, shame on your wicked schemes
I'll say this, I don't give a damn about your dreams

Thunder on the mountain heavy as can be
Mean old twister bearing down on me
All the ladies in Washington scrambling to get out of town
Looks like something bad is going to happen, better roll your airplane down

Everybody going and I want to go too
Don't wanna take a chance with somebody new
I did all I could, I did it right there and then
I've already confessed, no need to confess again

Gonna make a lot of money, gonna go up North
I'll plant and I'll harvest what the earth brings forth
The hammer's on the table, the pitchfork's on the shelf
For the love of God, you ought to take pity on yourself
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Sat 21 Oct, 2006 11:44 am
Beyond The Horizon
Bob Dylan
Beyond the horizon, behind the sun
At the end of the rainbow life has only begun
In the long hours of twilight 'neath the stardust above
Beyond the horizon it is easy to love.

I'm touched with desire
What don't i do?
Through flame and through fire
I'll build my world around you.

Beyond the horizon, in the springtime or fall
Love waits forever, for one and for all.

Beyond the horizon, across the divide
'Round about midnight, we'll be on the same side
Down in the valley the water runs cold
Beyond the horizon someone prayed for your soul.

My wretched heart is poundin'
I felt an angel's kiss
My memories are drownin'
In mortal bliss.

Beyond the horizon, at the end of the game
Every step that you take, i'm walking the same.

Beyond the horizon, the night winds blow
The theme of a melody from many moons ago
The bells of St. Mary, how sweetly they chime
Beyond the horizon, i found you just in time.

It's dark and it's dreary
I've been pleading in vain
I'm wounded 'n' i'm weary
My repentance is plain.

Beyond the horizon, o'er the treacherous sea
I still can't believe that you have set aside your love for me.

Beyond the horizon, 'neath crimson skies
In the soft light of morning i'll follow you with my eyes
Through countries and kingdoms and temples of stone
Beyond the horizon, right down to the bone.

It's the right time of the season
Somebody there always cared
There's always a reason
Why someone's life has been spared.

Beyond the horizon, the sky is so blue
I've got more than a lifetime to live lovin' you.
0 Replies
 
Swimpy
 
  1  
Reply Sat 21 Oct, 2006 12:10 pm
I've been listing to Dylan a lot lately. Don't exactly know why...must be the mood I'm in. This one has been played more often than most.

It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)

Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.

So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.

An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.

For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him.

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.

Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Sat 21 Oct, 2006 12:21 pm
Swimpy wrote:
I've been listing to Dylan a lot lately. Don't exactly know why...must be the mood I'm in. This one has been played more often than most.

It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)

Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying.

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn
That he not busy being born
Is busy dying.

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover
That you'd just be
One more person crying.

So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred.

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.

An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.

For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something
They invest in.

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him.

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he's in.

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.

Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony.

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes
Must get lonely.

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.



I listened to a live recording of that on the way to town this morning.
0 Replies
 
Swimpy
 
  1  
Reply Sun 22 Oct, 2006 06:27 pm
Isn't that a coinkydink? You know, edgar, I've always admired Dylan a lot, but I was never one to sit down and listen to his records until recently. I can't really put my finger on the reason, but I'm connecting in a way that I couldn't when I was younger.
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Sun 22 Oct, 2006 09:43 pm
Well, I became a fan of his in 1964. Curiously, I could not listen to Blood on the Tracks and some of his other stuff for years after he released it. Now I recognize Blood on the tracks as one of his masterworks. I guess the time has to be right on some of this, for us to appreciate it.
0 Replies
 
Swimpy
 
  1  
Reply Mon 23 Oct, 2006 07:53 pm
Yup. Mr. Swimpy has been a fan since about that time, too.
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Wed 22 Nov, 2006 09:32 pm
George Jackson

I woke up this mornin',
There were tears in my bed.
They killed a man I really loved
Shot him through the head.
Lord, Lord,
They cut George Jackson down.
Lord, Lord,
They laid him in the ground.

Sent him off to prison
For a seventy-dollar robbery.
Closed the door behind him
And they threw away the key.
Lord, Lord,
They cut George Jackson down.
Lord, Lord,
They laid him in the ground.

He wouldn't take **** from no one
He wouldn't bow down or kneel.
Authorities, they hated him
Because he was just too real.
Lord, Lord,
They cut George Jackson down.
Lord, Lord,
They laid him in the ground.

Prison guards, they cursed him
As they watched him from above
But they were frightened of his power
They were scared of his love.
Lord, Lord,
So they cut George Jackson down.
Lord, Lord,
They laid him in the ground.

Sometimes I think this whole world
Is one big prison yard.
Some of us are prisoners
The rest of us are guards.
Lord, Lord,
They cut George Jackson down.
Lord, Lord,
They laid him in the ground.
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Wed 14 May, 2008 05:26 pm
0 Replies
 
panzade
 
  1  
Reply Fri 23 May, 2008 11:16 am
great stuff,,,I'm listening to his theme time radio show.His knowledge of music is so amazing...if you can, listen to his show
0 Replies
 
edgarblythe
 
  1  
Reply Fri 23 May, 2008 04:41 pm
panzade wrote:
great stuff,,,I'm listening to his theme time radio show.His knowledge of music is so amazing...if you can, listen to his show


I don't know how to tune it in.
0 Replies
 
 

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WA2K Radio is now on the air - Discussion by Letty
Classical anyone? - Discussion by JPB
Ship Ahoy: The O'Jays - Discussion by edgarblythe
Evolutionary purpose of music. - Discussion by jackattack
Just another music thread. - Discussion by msolga
An a2k experiment: What is our favorite song? - Discussion by Robert Gentel
THE DAY THE MUSIC DIED . . . - Discussion by Setanta
Has a Song Ever Made You Cry? - Discussion by Diest TKO
 
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