I'll Be Selling Tickets For My Next

You Were Born With A Snake In Both Of Your Fists While A Hurricane Was Blowing.

Jewels And Binoculars Hang From The Head Of The Mule.

There Are Many Here Among Us Who Feel That Life Is But A Joke. But You And I, We've Been Through That, And This Is Not Our Fate, So Let Us Not Talk Falsely Now, The Hour Is Getting Late.

Walkin' Through The Leaves Fallin' From The Trees, Feelin' Like A Stranger Nobody Sees.

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.