Bob Dylan's Blues

Pull out your six-shooter
I don't have no sports car
Lord, and I'll love her till I'm dead
With nothin' in your heads
With my hat in my hand
And my boots on my feet
Everybody's except mine
I can walk anytime around the block
And I don't even care to have one

And rob every bank you can see
Fixin' everybody's troubles

Now this, this is a song this one's written up there
Watch out so you don't step on me
They are ridin' down the line

You want to be like me
Lord, I ain't goin' down to no race track
See no sports car run

Someone musta told 'em that I was doin' fine
That's where most of the folk songs come from nowadays

I got a real gal I'm in love
Well, the Lone Ranger and Tonto
Well, look it here buddy
This is written somewhere down in the United States
Up and down the street
Well, the wind keeps a blowin' me
All you five and ten cent women
Go away from my door and my window too, right now