Bob Dylan

Hey! Mr. Tamborine Man, play a song for me.
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going read more

Hey! Mr. Tamborine Man, play a song for me.
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to.

Come you masters of warYou that build all the gunsYou that build the death planesYou that build the big bombsYou read more

Come you masters of warYou that build all the gunsYou that build the death planesYou that build the big bombsYou that hide behind wallsYou that hide behind desksI just want you to knowI can see through your masks

How many roads must a man walk down
Before your can call him a man? . . .
read more

How many roads must a man walk down
Before your can call him a man? . . .
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Blame it on a simple twist of fate.

Blame it on a simple twist of fate.

People today are still living off the table scraps of the sixties. They are still being passed around - the read more

People today are still living off the table scraps of the sixties. They are still being passed around - the music and the ideas.