Above Milk Wood

The Dylans embraced, Bob and Thomas, imagining,
had to move on, because the times they were a changing,
God, he was right - can't lean on bar counter any more,
Bob asked about Wales, Thomas said he wasn't there now.

You musicians controlled the world imagining,
the president became Mr. Tambourine man, changing,
tell me the colours in your mind, play a song
for me while you gaze wistfully down welsh valleys.

I'm waiting over you, tell me what you're going to do,
lay across my big brass bed, why not lay lady lay;
let's return to Woodstock, I'll sing, you can read,
we'll give them everything that they'd ever need.

Make them all feel our love, whatever we may do,
now you're gone, I'll have to find someone else like you.