We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
"I'm beginning to hear voices and there's no one around Well, I'm all used up and the fields have turned brown I went to church on Sunday and she passed by My love for her is taking such a long time to die
I'm waist deep, waist deep in the mist It's almost like, almost like I don't exist I'm twenty miles out of town, in cold irons bound
The walls of pride are high and wide Can't see over to the other side It's such a sad thing to see beauty decay It's sadder still, to feel your heart torn away
One look at you and I'm out of control Like the universe has swallowed me whole I'm twenty miles out of town in Cold irons bound"
"Cold Irons Bound," from 1997's Grammy-winning Time Out Of Mind. While many of Dylan's earlier lyrics could stand on their own as poetry, those on Time Out Of Mind cannot - to me anyways - be separated from the music without having their impact significantly diminished. In this sense, though, they may work better as complete songs than some earlier masterpieces. In live performances Dylan uses the music to heighten the emotional impact of the songs to an even greater degree than on the albums: try, for instance, a fiery version from 1998 here, or a subdued new arrangement performed just a few days ago in Grand Prairie, Texas, here.