Song For Bobby

The room is mistaken
A little afraid
The air tonight
Has become its maid
I staggered
Out in the shade
As my eyes
Began to fade
A cruel world
A wicked charade
The snarl and scruff
The trick and the bluff
And I knew I would
Never be Bob Dylan

She spoke in sign language
Of me she took advantage
I called her my debutante
She knew what I did want
Playing hide and seek
Making my knees go weak
Playing the birds and bees
Often eager to please
And that Cat knew that
She would never be Bob Dylan

He was a humanitarian
His lover was the librarian
He suffered the poor complexion
He couldn’t even pay attention
Giving all his money away
Doing as they say
Being giving a knighthood
Dying like he should
Knowing that he would
Never be Bob Dylan

The President put on his orange skin
Prayed no one would notice anything
He found out there was no money
That they made up the word free
Injected disinfectant in a masterstroke
Read a speech someone else wrote
Tried his best to throw out a few jokes
Recited some of the ancient quotes
The President knew like he should
That he’d never be Bob Dylan

Jesus Christ came out to preach
With dictatorship between his teeth
Watching a bush burn bright
Standing at his wedding one night
Healing the deaf and the blind
Eating bread and drinking wine
Dying for my yet committed sins
I didn’t ask him to do that kind of thing
Jesus Christ died knowing he would
Never be Bob Dylan

Well, the motorcycle
Came to a halt
As Bobby was spread
On the road like salt
Walked around in
The big fishbowl
And Bobby found
His poor soul
Deep at the bottom
Of a toilet bowl
As I stood under
What I call this?
The hard rain for him
Started to hiss
And he knew that
Not even Bob Dylan
Will ever be
Bob Dylan