Talking New Bob Dylan

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