All right, so this is the sequel to the previous "More lines and verses from Bob Dylan, Nobel Laureate", even if heading says otherwise. Still no sign of "Subterranean Homesick Blues".
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| 2 | JonesRW | 431 | 87 |
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| 3 | KosmanJ | 427 | 79 |
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| 4 | EverettJ | 401 | 70 |
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| 5 | SingerJ2 | 329 | 62 |
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| 7 | Crow-T-Robot | 234 | 45 |
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| 9 | Shosin | 106 | 29 |
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The line it is drawn, the curse it is cast, The slow one now will later be last
I don't want to meet your kin, make you spin or do you in
My love she speaks like silence, without ideals or violence
Now the preacher looked so baffled, when I asked him why he dressed, With twenty pounds of headlines stapled to his chest
Girls' faces formed the forward path from phony jealousy, To memorizing politics of ancient history
You say you love me and you're thinking of me, But you know you could be wrong
Whoo-ee! Ride me high, Tomorrow's the day my bride's gonna come
When you know as well as me, You'd rather see me paralyzed, Why don't you just come out once and scream it
Well, your railroad gate, you know I just can't jump it
'Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood, When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
Pistol shots ring out in the barroom night, Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall
Go 'way from my window, leave at your own chosen speed