I Gave Her My Heart But She

I Was Headed For The Fantastic Lights. No Doubt About It. Could It Be That I Was Being Deceived? Not Likely. I Don't Think I Had Enough Imagination To Be Deceived; Had No False Hope, Either. I'd Come From A Long Ways Off And Had Started From A Long Ways Down. But Now Destiny Was About To Manifest Itself. I Felt Like It Was Looking Right At Me And Nobody Else.

Bob Dylan Wrote In His Elliptical Memoir, Chronicles: Volume One, He Was Washed Up In The 1980s, No Longer A Commercial Success, And No Longer Putting Out Good Work.

Black Is The Color And None Is The Number

The Purpose Of Art Is To Stop Time.

The Exploitation And Superficiality Of Mainstream America Is The Object Not Of [bob] Dylan's Hipster Scorn, But Of An Apocalyptic Parable Of Holy Fools And Righteous Thieves - The Kind Of Imagery That Dylan's Later Work Would Explore More Fully.