Dylan’s sad Urbano song

The viking soldier steps in from the cold, unhearthed street.
He wears a leather-jacket, blue-brown boots and dirty jeans.
From ceiling hanging light bulbs spread their rays upon his head.
Soon it’ll be some bubbles bursting down up by your breast.
Hey honey, will you tell me, is this a street or I’m home?
Don’t let me singing all alone my sad Urbano song.

“Now get me one of these, I’ll pay it good, I’ll drink it fast.
I need a chair to rest, I must forget I don’t know what.”
The big breasted valkyrie points her finger to the man
whose once so richful kingdom had just vanished into sand.
Hey honey, will you tell me, is this a street or I’m home?
Don’t let me singing all alone my sad Urbano song.

“Sit down, kid”, said the man. His eyes were drilling me with scorn.
His breath was cool and minty though he seemed to’ve drunk a lot.
“You worried, pal? What urges you?” “You see, I cannot write!
I have these awful nightmares and they’re not fleeing out of sight!”
Hey honey, will you tell me, is this a street or I’m home?
Don’t let me singing all alone my sad Urbano song.

“You’re only 22, you little prick, you’ll make it through.
The world outside’s so foolish and will sell you all kinds of truths.
They’ll gamble with your guts and rob your sons and kill your muse,
and leave you there, heart-acking, with your black eyes full of blues.
But you don’t have to worry ‘cause salvation is in Proust”.
“I never read him”. “Time will come, your only sin is youth”.
Hey honey, will you tell me, is this a street or I’m home?
Don’t let me singing all alone my sad Urbano song.

“I’ll show you something that’ll make you know what lies ahead.
See that crippled midget with a cowboy hat on his head?
Go dance with him, though you sure know that one-legged cannot dance.
But you won’t even move, now will you? ‘Cause you won’t give yourself a chance.”
Hey honey, will you tell me, is this a street or I’m home?
Don’t let me singing all alone my sad Urbano song.

He gives me some Neruda quotes and shelters from the storm.
“Don’t be awake and rest at night because your journey is long”.
He moves his balky muscles, he bumps among the herd.
A tattoo on his back says “Love like you’ve never been hurt”.
He squeezes and I look for him but suddenly he’s gone.
And here I am with dirty jeans, and carrying my crown of thorns.
And all alone I keep on singing my sad Urbano song.

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