Maggie's Farm

James Edwards at NRO demonstrates the emptiness of the Jesus-exploitation of the illegal immigration fans. One quote:

Amnesty, moreover, risks abrogating the “love your neighbor” commandment and biblical standards of justice. It privileges the foreigners who broke our laws to get and stay here, and puts at a disadvantage the poorest citizens, law-abiding employers, and legal immigrants. This doesn’t sound at all like what Romans 13 describes, where the civil government wields the sword of justice to punish the wrongdoer and protect the innocent.

We all can empathize with someone who aspires to a better life. We wish the same for ourselves and our children. But there are lawful ways to achieve it.

Particularly in light of the utter failure of previous amnesties, the legalization route would constitute the government’s failure to mete out justice. It certainly wouldn’t be merciful, on balance.

When government tries to show mercy, it often results in injustice toward someone else. In this case, it’s native-born Americans who’ll suffer government-inflicted injustice.

Some 12 to 20 million illegal aliens have broken just, duly enacted laws that deserve to be enforced. Mass amnesty and a failure to enforce immigration laws subject all our laws, to contempt. That is a very high price to pay, because the rule of law protects us all against tyranny.

Whenever politicians invoke Christ's name, watch out. They are desperate. There is a little thing called the Third Commandment -Catholics call it the Second - it's about using the name of the Lord in vain, eg for your own purposes.

More Bob Birthday stuff. That's a photo of Bob on April 26, performing in his beloved New Orleans. Lookin' good, Bob.

Here's a whole-hearted performance of Like a Rolling Stone from 1966.

Tears of Rage from 1996, with one of his best bands, in my opinion.

 Just Like a Woman from 1971.

Not Dark Yet, from 2006 (excellent recording).

The chorus of protest over the bill in the Senate right now (the "No Illegal Alien Left Behind" act, as some would call it, or the "Destroy America Now" act) is coming from so many places, and from so many unlikely sources that it is getting difficult to keep up.

While criticism has come from the usual quarters, even such open-borders advocates as George Will and John Podhoretz have come down hard on the bill.  The staggering costs of the bill, only just now coming to light, have revealed a total outlay of as much as 2.5 trillion over the next two decades.   Ed Morrissey notes that the bill has achieved the remarkable distinction of having almost every single voting group in the USA opposed to it:

Not a single demographic in the study favors this proposal, except under Race: Other. Democrats oppose it 51-28. Republicans oppose it 47-25. Men and women both clearly oppose it. Only people ages 30-39 come close to overcoming opposition, 34-32 in opposition. But when the subject turns to border security, the numbers turn even more dramatic....The data is so compelling, one has to wonder why Congress hasn't realized that they could offer a win for everyone by focusing exclusively on border security as an entrée to immigration reform. They literally would please every possible constituency by doing so, and would almost overnight dial down the emotion over the rest of the issue. Only in DC could the governing class be so out of touch with the national mood.

Meanwhile, another blogger eviscerates the irrational arguments of those like Dick Morris, Robert Novak and Fred Barnes that the GOP must support this bill or risk losing Hispanic votes:

The GOP has got to understand that they will never, ever be able to compete with Democrats when it comes to appealing to poor, uneducated welfare cases -- which is exactly the category most of these illegal aliens would fall into. That's because Democrats, being big government socialists, will always be willing to offer them more goodies for their votes. The GOP's target audience among Hispanics will be more educated, more successful, more middle-class Hispanics, not poverty cases or the La Raza crowd. That means for the GOP to gain with Hispanics over the long term, we've got to push policies that will allow the Hispanics who are already American citizens to become more successful, not bring in penniless, uneducated manual laborers from South America by the tens of millions and hope that they'll vote for us because we're "democrat light" on amnesty and welfare.

In the most amusing quote of the day, Barack Obama set some sort of Democratic first in the following critique of one of the few sensible changes in the bill - placing a skills requirement for immigrants above that of extended family ties:

This change "constitutes at minimum a radical experiment in social engineering and a departure from our tradition of having family and employers invite immigrants to come," Obama said.

A Democrat criticizing something for being a radical social experiment that's a departure from historical tradition?  I'm expecting to see pigs flying around Nashville right about now. 

Bird Dog has asked that
I pen a little comment on the so-called "immigration reform" bill currently on the Senate floor. 

This bill, as written, will do two main things: (1) give permanent residency to almost all illegal aliens in the USA (a number estimated at anywhere from 12 to 20 million - no one knows) and (2) create a massive increase in LEGAL immigration with the "guest" (i.e. permanent) worker program.  (Calling this an "illegal immigration" bill is highly misleading, as its true legacy would be a big increase in legal immigration from the new visa categories, and from all the relatives of these visa recipients who would become eligible for green cards.)

Now, 11 years ago, if anyone cares to think back, Congress was considering the report of an immigration committee headed up by the late Barbara Jordan (D-TX).  Her sensible recommendations, borne out of seven years of studies and analysis, advocated a modest decrease in legal immigration.  A Republican Congress rejected even this reasonable measure, reaffirming the core principle of US immigration policy of the last 40 years: always MORE, never mind who, how or why. 

I think the biggest error many people make in approaching the issue is that they view it primarily in terms of morality, as though the issue were not mainly about the key questions of "who" and "how many" but vague notions of fairness and historical tradition - as though attitudes mattered more than actual consequences of policy.  This approach, of course, is precisely what got us into this mess in the first place: the 1965 immigration bill, which inaugurated the current era of mass third-world immigration, was inspired in part by the Civil Rights act and attempted to apply egalitarian principles to immigration policy.  Since then, every attempted "fix" to the broken system has only exacerbated the problem, since no one has questioned this approach to immigration policy, or even advanced a justification, apart from tired cliches, as for why we even still have a policy of large-scale immigration.

Immigration is not an "emotional" issue, as many in the press like to write, but a highly number-intensive one, susceptible to statistical analysis, economic number-crunching and all sorts of other useful tools.  Fortunately, many smart people have done just these sorts of studies, and the results are out there for all to find (though rarely reported by the mainstream media). 

As for the current bill - many other bloggers have provided excellent critiques, and I will not repeat them.  Any real reform would have to do the following: (1) Severely restrict the number of legal immigrants (to 400k or below); (2) abolish family reunification; (3) amend the "birthright citizenship" clause in the 14th Amendment; (4) demand workplace enforcement; and (5) take seriously efforts at integration and assimilation for those we do admit.  With that done, it would actually be possible to start reducing the illegal population through enforcement of existing laws. 

Photo: Senators Mel Martinez, Lindsay Graham and Ted Kennedy amuse themselves at a press conference about their immigration bill last week.

Update: Michelle lists all of the freebies in the illegals' goody bag. Sweet.

"Well, I had to go down and see a guy named Mr. Goldsmith
A nasty, dirty, double-crossin', back-stabbin' phony I didn't wanna have to be dealin' with
But I did it for you and all you gave me was a smile
Well, I cried for you - now it's your turn to cry awhile

I don't carry dead weight - I'm no flash in the pan
All right, I'll set you straight, can't you see I'm a union man?
I'm lettin' the cat out of the cage, I'm keeping a low profile
Well, I cried for you - now it's your turn, you can cry awhile

Feel like a fighting rooster - feel better than I ever felt
But the Pennsylvania line's in an awful mess and the Denver road is about to melt
I went to the church house, every day I go an extra mile
Well, I cried for you - now it's your turn, you can cry awhile

Well, there's preachers in the pulpits and babies in the cribs
I'm longin' for that sweet fat that sticks to your ribs
I'm gonna buy me a barrel of whiskey - I'll die before I turn senile
Well, I cried for you - now it's your turn, you can cry awhile

You bet on a horse and it ran on the wrong way
I always said you'd be sorry and today could be the day
I might need a good lawyer, could be your funeral, my trial
Well, I cried for you, now it's your turn, you can cry awhile"

"Cry a While," from 2001's Love and Theft.  Watch Dylan's performance of this song at the 2002 Grammy's here.

This is a re-post from May 17, 2006, following Bush's speech on immigration:

Robert Samuelson's op-ed in today's Washington Post, almost alone among the commentary I have seen in recent days, takes a sober, rhetoric-free look at the long-term economic and social consequences of our nation's unwillingness to control how many and what sort of foreigners we choose to allow into the United States.

President Bush's immigration speech mostly missed the true nature of the problem. We face two interconnected population issues. One is aging; the other is immigration. We aren't dealing sensibly with either, and as a result we face a future of unnecessarily heightened political and economic conflict. On the one side will be older baby boomers demanding all their federal retirement benefits. On the other will be an expanding population of younger and poorer Hispanics -- immigrants, their children and grandchildren -- increasingly resentful of their rising taxes that subsidize often-wealthier and unrelated baby boomers.

Does this look like a harmonious future?

Such big-picture analysis of the demographic future of our country - which, unlike the price of oil, the value of the dollar, or the cost of buying a home, can be predicted with a reasonable degree of certainty - is virtually unknown among policymakers or journalists.  Continuing, Samuelson argues that in focusing exclusively on illegal immigration, we have missed the forest for the trees:

The central problem is not illegal immigration. It is undesirably high levels of poor and low-skilled immigrants, whether legal or illegal, most of whom are Hispanic. Immigrants are not all the same. An engineer making $75,000 annually contributes more to the American economy and society than a $20,000 laborer. On average, the engineer will assimilate more easily.

This ought to be common sense, but such things are rarely if ever discussed honestly or forthrightly.  The obsessive desire on the part of Bush and the Senate to flood this country with poor, uneducated, non-English speaking workers will have incalculable consequences down the road for virtually every area of American society, and Samuelson deserves credit for sounding the alarm.

We dedicate our post of the lyrics of Dylan's 1967 Rainy Day Women to Don Imus.

Well, they'll stone ya when you're trying to be so good,
They'll stone ya just a-like they said they would.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to go home.
Then they'll stone ya when you're there all alone.
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.

Well, they'll stone ya when you're walkin' 'long the street.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to keep your seat.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' on the floor.
They'll stone ya when you're walkin' to the door.
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.

They'll stone ya when you're at the breakfast table.
They'll stone ya when you are young and able.
They'll stone ya when you're tryin' to make a buck.
They'll stone ya and then they'll say, "good luck."
Tell ya what, I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.

Well, they'll stone you and say that it's the end.
Then they'll stone you and then they'll come back again.
They'll stone you when you're riding in your car.
They'll stone you when you're playing your guitar.
Yes, but I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.

Well, they'll stone you when you walk all alone.
They'll stone you when you are walking home.
They'll stone you and then say you are brave.
They'll stone you when you are set down in your grave.
But I would not feel so all alone,
Everybody must get stoned.

Here's an enjoyable, if low-key, 1998 YouTube  performance of the song.

Being the weather buff that I am, late last night I noticed on the NOAA website that there were 7.57 inches of rain in NYC. It was their second rainiest day since 1869, only beat out by a hurricane in New York in 1882. 

Actually, it looks like this lackluster nor'easter was the only non-hurricane event ever to bring more than 5 inches of rain in the City. 

As I contemplated the meaning of these data and the probable relationship of a cold, rainy day to the terrifying - indeed chilling - crisis of global warming, the friendly succubus on the right appeared in my doorway, removed her black leather vest and skirt, and crept towards me as I lay on my bed with my laptop.

I took this quick photo of her with my cell phone, then immediately dialed Al Gore's house to ask him what to do. I must confess that this sort of thing doesn't happen to me every day, but I figured that Clothes Off must be a certain sign of a dangerous acceleration of globalistical warmening requiring urgent and decisive action. Anyway, Al couldn't come to the phone: the butler said he was in the hot tub with a rubber ducky.

Well, it definitely was already feeling warmer in my room, globally speaking of course, but my thermometer rose rapidly when she began to lick my toes, so, anyway...

In Al Gore's hometown of Nashville, the temperature this Easter morning dropped to a low of 23 degrees, tied for the coldest temperature ever recorded in April (in 137 years of record keeping).  Just last Sunday it was in the upper 80s.

In Cleveland, the Indians have had another double header snowed out, but it's hard to lay all the blame on the weather seeing as how the MLB schedulers decided it would be a good idea to have the team open with 10 straight games in Cleveland in early April against opponents from warmer climes and with retractable roof stadiums. Brilliant.

Editor's Note:  The News Junkie reports 31 degrees in Pittsfield MA, and the Barrister reports 35 near Hartford. Not a day for Easter bonnets.

"Most of the time
I'm clear focused all around,
Most of the time
I can keep both feet on the ground,
I can follow the path, I can read the signs,
Stay right with it, when the road unwinds,
I can handle whatever I stumble upon,
I don't even notice she's gone,
Most of the time.

Most of the time
It's well understood,
Most of the time
I wouldn't change it if I could,
I can't make it all match up, I can hold my own,
I can deal with the situation right down to the bone,
I can survive, I can endure
And I don't even think about her
Most of the time.

Most of the time
My head is on straight,
Most of the time
I'm strong enough not to hate.
I don't build up illusion 'till it makes me sick,
I ain't afraid of confusion no matter how thick
I can smile in the face of mankind.
Don't even remember what her lips felt like on mine
Most of the time.

Most of the time
She ain't even in my mind,
I wouldn't know her if I saw her
She's that far behind.
Most of the time
I can't even be sure
If she was ever with me
Or if I was with her.

Most of the time
I'm halfway content,
Most of the time
I know exactly where I went,
I don't cheat on myself, I don't run and hide,
Hide from the feelings, that are buried inside,
I don't compromise and I don't pretend,
I don't even care if I ever see her again
Most of the time."

"Most of the Time," off 1989's Oh Mercy.

A short youtube clip, interrupted for some reason, may be found here.

I am Your Teenage Prayer

Take a look at me baby
I am a teenage prayer
when it's cloudy all the time
all you gotta do is say you're mine,
and I'll go anywhere...

Take a look at me babe
I'm your teenage prayer
take a look at me baby
- just take a look at me baby
I am your teenage prayer
- yes I'm your teenage prayer
take a look at me baby
- just take a look over here at me baby
I am your teenage prayer
I'm your teenage prayer
take a look and when it's cloudy all the time
all you gotta do is say you're mine
I come runnin' anywhere
take a look at me baby
- just take a look at me baby
I'm your teenage prayer

Take a look at me baby
I'm your teenage dream
take a look at me baby
I'm your teenage dream
- yes and I'm a dream
when it's rainy in your heart
just come to me and start
tell me how I do and cheer
oh just come and take a look at me baby
I'm your teenage prayer

(the rest of the lyrics on continuation page below)
.

These ad-libbed nonsense lines are from a Basement Tape session with The Band, in the Big Pink's garage (photo). Dylan paid for the house, and had them all on salary for a while, to have people to play with when he felt like coming down from his house, wife, dogs, and kids in Woodstock. After a while, The Band decided to make their own first recording, which was mind-bogglingly good. In fact, all of their stuff holds up darn well.

Dylan is back to playing his guitar on the Never Ending Tour.

He's only played piano for the past five years. 

He is in Scandinavia right now.

Changing of the Guards (1978)

Sixteen years,
Sixteen banners united over the field
Where the good shepherd grieves.
Desperate men, desperate women divided,
Spreading their wings 'neath the falling leaves.

Fortune calls.
I stepped forth from the shadows, to the marketplace,
Merchants and thieves, hungry for power, my last deal gone down.
She's smelling sweet like the meadows where she was born,
On midsummer's eve, near the tower.

The cold-blooded moon.
The captain waits above the celebration
Sending his thoughts to a beloved maid
Whose ebony face is beyond communication.
The captain is down but still believing that his love will be repaid.

They shaved her head.
She was torn between Jupiter and Apollo.
A messenger arrived with a black nightingale.
I seen her on the stairs and I couldn't help but follow,
Follow her down past the fountain where they lifted her veil.

The rest of the lyrics on continuation page below

"Well my nerves are exploding and my body's tense
I feel like the whole world got me pinned up against the fence
I've been hit too hard; I've seen too much
Nothing can heal me now, but your touch
I don't know what I'm gonna do
I was all right 'til I fell in love with you

Well my house is on fire; burning to the sky
I thought it would rain but the clouds passed by
Now I feel like I'm coming to the end of my way
But I know God is my shield and he won't lead me astray
Still I don't know what I'm gonna do
I was all right 'til I fell in love with you

Boys in the street beginning to play
Girls like birds flying away
When I'm gone you will remember my name
I'm gonna win my way to wealth and fame
I don't know what I'm gonna do
I was all right 'til I fell in love with you.

'Til I Fell In Love With You, from 1997's Time Out Of Mind.  A nice 1997 youtube can be viewed here.

I'll Remember You

I'll remember you
When I've forgotten all the rest,
You to me were true,
You to me were the best.
When there is no more,
You cut to the core
Quicker than anyone I knew.
When I'm all alone
In the great unknown,
I'll remember you.

I'll remember you
At the end of the trail,
I had so much left to do,
I had so little time to fail.
There's some people that
You don't forget,
Even though you've only seen'm
One time or two.
When the roses fade
And I'm in the shade,
I'll remember you.

Entire lyrics here.

We Better Talk This Over

I think we better talk this over,
Maybe when we both get sober,
You'll understand I'm only a man
Doin' the best that I can.

This situation can only get rougher.
Why should we needlessly suffer?
Let's call it a day, go our own different ways
Before we decay.

You don't have to be afraid of looking into my face,
We've done nothing to each other time will not erase.

I feel displaced, I got a low-down feeling
You been two-faced, you been double-dealing.
I took a chance, got caught in the trance
Of a downhill dance.

Oh, child, why you wanna hurt me?
I'm exiled, you can't convert me.
I'm lost in the haze of your delicate ways
With both eyes glazed.

You don't have to yearn for love, you don't have to be alone,
Somewheres in this universe there's a place that you can call home.

I guess I'll be leaving tomorrow
If I have to beg, steal or borrow.
It'd be great to cross paths in a day and a half
Look at each other and laugh.

But I don't think it's liable to happen
Like the sound of one hand clappin'.
The vows that we kept are now broken and swept
'Neath the bed where we slept.

Don't think of me and fantasize on what we never had,
Be grateful for what we've shared together and be glad.

Why should we go on watching each other through a telescope?
Eventually we'll hang ourselves on all this tangled rope.

Oh, babe, time for a new transition
I wish I was a magician.
I would wave a wand and tie back the bond
That we've both gone beyond.

This song first appeared on Street Legal in 1978. I am fond of the loose, casual, garage recording of the song on the album.

The world is ruled by violence.

Bob Dylan

Indeed it is, even in democratic, "social contract" nations where the threat of state violence (police, jails, FBI, Federal prosecutors, etc) is a big part of what holds things together - supposedly. So it's funny to see "life in a bubble" folks at Harvard horrified when a dog kills a squirrel. Harvard Crimson. (h/t, Instapundit). There's a lesson in that.

I like this one better than the one Bird Dog posted on Christmas: Pancho and Lefty.

It's from a while ago - before the stunningly lovely gray.

"She's got everything she needs,
She's an artist, she don't look back.
She's got everything she needs,
She's an artist, she don't look back.
She can take the dark out of the nighttime
And paint the daytime black.

You will start out standing
Proud to steal her anything she sees.
You will start out standing
Proud to steal her anything she sees.
But you will wind up peeking through her keyhole
Down upon your knees.

She never stumbles,
She's got no place to fall.
She never stumbles,
She's got no place to fall.
She's nobody's child,
The Law can't touch her at all.

She wears an Egyptian ring
That sparkles before she speaks.
She wears an Egyptian ring
That sparkles before she speaks.
She's a hypnotist collector,
You are a walking antique.

Bow down to her on Sunday,
Salute her when her birthday comes.
Bow down to her on Sunday,
Salute her when her birthday comes.
For Halloween give her a trumpet
And for Christmas, buy her a drum."

"She Belongs To Me," from 1965's Bringing It All Back Home.  Here's a youtube of a (partial, sadly) 1965 performance.

My Back Pages (1964)

Crimson flames tied through my ears
Rollin' high and mighty traps
Pounced with fire on flaming roads
Using ideas as my maps
"We'll meet on edges, soon," said I
Proud 'neath heated brow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.

Half-wracked prejudice leaped forth
"Rip down all hate," I screamed
Lies that life is black and white
Spoke from my skull. I dreamed
Romantic facts of musketeers
Foundationed deep, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.

Girls' faces formed the forward path
From phony jealousy
To memorizing politics
Of ancient history
Flung down by corpse evangelists
Unthought of, though, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.

A self-ordained professor's tongue
Too serious to fool
Spouted out that liberty
Is just equality in school
"Equality," I spoke the word
As if a wedding vow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.

In a soldier's stance, I aimed my hand
At the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not that I'd become my enemy
In the instant that I preach
My pathway led by confusion boats
Mutiny from stern to bow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.

Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats
Too noble to neglect
Deceived me into thinking
I had something to protect
Good and bad, I define these terms
Quite clear, no doubt, somehow.
Ah, but I was so much older then,
I'm younger than that now.

Here's a 1998 You Tube,  His ultimate poltical song. Image: Dylan and Robbie Robertson, Chicago, 1965.

Sowell speaks out on the case now before the Supreme Court in which students, both white and black, are suing school districts in Louisville and Seattle for denying them admittance to the schools of their choice on the basis of their race.  The schools' motivation is not to remedy segregation, but rather to provide the "benefits of diversity" by making sure all schools in the system meet certain racial quotas for each group. 

What are those "compelling" benefits of "diversity"? They are as invisible as the proverbial emperor's new clothes. Yet everyone has to pretend to believe in those benefits, as they pretended to admire the naked emperor's wardrobe.

Not only is there no hard evidence that mixing and matching black and white kids in school produces either educational or social benefits, there have been a number of studies of all-black schools whose educational performances equal or exceed the national average, even though most black schools fall far below the average...

Look at it another way: Have black kids bussed into white schools had their test scores shoot up? No -- not even after decades of bussing.

Indeed, the whole "diversity" concept only arose AFTER it became abundantly clear that integration and busing had failed completely to improve the achievement of either black or white students, and in fact was correlated with a substantial decline in standards and performance.  Needing some rationale to continue the experiment, the left created the concept of diversity - an ideal one, too, since its benefits can never be proved or disproved, only asserted as an article of faith.  Anyways, the Court should reach a decision by late spring.

Above, the author of 1954's Brown v. Board of Ed.

Down the street the dogs are barkin'
And the day is a-gettin' dark.
As the night comes in a-fallin',
The dogs 'll lose their bark.
An' the silent night will shatter
From the sounds inside my mind,
For I'm one too many mornings
And a thousand miles behind.

From the crossroads of my doorstep,
My eyes they start to fade,
As I turn my head back to the room
Where my love and I have laid.
An' I gaze back to the street,
The sidewalk and the sign,
And I'm one too many mornings
An' a thousand miles behind.

It's a restless hungry feeling
That don't mean no one no good,
When ev'rything I'm a-sayin'
You can say it just as good.
You're right from your side,
I'm right from mine.
We're both just one too many mornings
An' a thousand miles behind.

"One Too Many Mornings," from 1964's The Times They Are A-Changin'.  Here's the youtube of a performance from 1976.  Or from 1986.  Or one with Johnny Cash.  Or even one from 2000 ... your pick!

"I can't understand,
She let go of my hand
An' left me here facing the wall.
I'd sure like t' know
Why she did go,
But I can't get close t' her at all.
Though we kissed through the wild blazing nighttime,
She said she would never forget.
But now mornin's clear,
It's like I ain't here,
She just acts like we never have met.

It's all new t' me,
Like some mystery,
It could even be like a myth.
Yet it's hard t' think on,
That she's the same one
That last night I was with.
From darkness, dreams're deserted,
Am I still dreamin' yet?
I wish she'd unlock
Her voice once an' talk,
'Stead of acting like we never have met.

If she ain't feelin' well,
Then why don't she tell
'Stead of turnin' her back t' my face?
Without any doubt,
She seems too far out
For me t' return t' her chase.
Though the night ran swirling an' whirling,
I remember her whispering yet.
But evidently she don't
An' evidently she won't,
She just acts like we never have met.

If I didn't have t' guess,
I'd gladly confess
T' anything I might've tried.
If I was with 'er too long
Or have done something wrong,
I wish she'd tell me what it is, I'll run an' hide.
Though her skirt it swayed as a guitar played,
Her mouth was watery and wet.
But now something has changed
For she ain't the same,
She just acts like we never have met.

I'm leavin' today,
I'll be on my way
Of this I can't say very much.
But if you want me to,
I can be just like you
An' pretend that we never have touched.
An' if anybody asks me, "Is it easy to forget?"
I'll say, "It's easily done,
You just pick anyone,
An' pretend that you never have met!"

"I Don't Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met)," from 1964's Another Side Of Bob Dylan.  Download a live version from the Neverending Tour here, but the defining performance of this song remains the 1966 version captured on the now officially released Royal Albert Hall concert from 1966.

Love is Just a Four-letter Word (1967)

Seems like only yesterday
I left my mind behind
Down in the Gypsy Cafe
With a friend of a friend of mine
She sat with a baby heavy on her knee
Yet spoke of life most free from slavery
With eyes that showed no trace of misery
A phrase in connection first with she I heard
That love is just a four-letter word

Outside a rambling store-front window
Cats meowed to the break of day
Me, I kept my mouth shut, too
To you I had no words to say
My experience was limited and underfed
You were talking while I hid
To the one who was the father of your kid
You probably didn't think I did, but I heard
You say that love is just a four-letter word 

I said goodbye unnoticed
Pushed towards things in my own games
Drifting in and out of lifetimes
Unmentionable by name
Searching for my double, looking for
Complete evaporation to the core
Though I tried and failed at finding any door
I must have thought that there was nothing more
Absurd than that love is just a four-letter word

Though I never knew just what you meant
When you were speaking to your man
I can only think in terms of me
And now I understand
After waking enough times to think I see
The Holy Kiss that's supposed to last eternity
Blow up in smoke, its destiny
Falls on strangers, travels free
Yes, I know now, traps are only set by me
And I do not really need to be
Assured that love is just a four-letter word.

This song never appeared on a Dylan recording, but has been covered by a number of people, and is best known in the Joan Baez version, which is performed in such a foolishly and gratingly upbeat manner that I will not link the record.