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Talking New Bob Dylan Music Lyrics

Loudon Wainwright III

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Hey, Bob Dylan, I wrote you a song

Today is your birthday if I'm not wrong

If I'm not mistaken, you're 50 today

How are you doin', Bob? What do you say?



Well, it musta been about '62

I heard you on record, you were brand new

And some had some doubts about the way you sang

But the truth came through and loudly it rang



Yeah, you were hipper than Mitch Miller

And Johnny Mathis put together



So I got some boots, a harmonica rack

A D-21, and I was on the right track

But I didn't start writing until '68

It was too damn daunting, you were too great

I won a whole lot of Bob Dylan imitation contests, though, huh



Yeah, times were a changin', you brought it all home

'Blonde On Blonde', 'Like A Rolling Stone'

The real world is crazy, you were deranged

And when you went electric, Bob, everything changed

A shock to the system



Had a commission at her motorcycle wreck

Holed up in Woodstock with a broken neck

And the labels were signin' up guys with guitars

Out to make millions, lookin' for stars



Well, I figured it was time to make my move

Songs from the West Chester County Delta country



Yeah, I got a deal and so did John Prine

Steve Forbert and Springsteen, all in a line

They were lookin' for you, signin' up others

We were new Bob Dylans, your dumb ass kid brothers



Well, we still get together every week at Bruce's house

Why, he's got quite a spread I tell ya, it's a twelve step program



Yeah, but we were just us and of course you were you

And "John Wesley Harding" sure sounded new

And then, "Nashville Skyline" was even newer

'Blood On the Tracks' an' the ringin' got truer



Let's see, there was another one in there somewhere[Incomprehensible]

Oh, I got it, I got it, "Self Portrait"

Well, it was an interesting effort



Yeah, had to stop listening, times were too tough

Me bein' the new me was hard enough

You keep right on changin' like you always do

An' what's best is the old stuff still all sounds new



Yeah, today is your birthday, have a great one, Bob

Bein' the new you is one hell of a job

My kid cranked up her boom box to almost grown

When I heard you screamin' from her room

"Everybody must get stoned", thanks a lot, Bob

Happy birthday, Bob

Loudon Wainwright III - Talking New Bob Dylan Music Lyrics

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