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Bob Dylan - Bringing It All Back Home Album Lyrics



Bob Dylan - Bringing It All Back Home Lyrics






Subterranean Homesick Blues

Johny's in the basement
Mixing up the medicine
I'm on the pavement
Thinking about the government
The man in the trench coat
Badge out, laid off
Says he's got a bad cough
Wants to get it paid off
Look out kid
It's somethin' you did
God knows when
But you're doin' it again
You better duck down the alley way
Lookin' for a new friend
The man in the coon-skip cap
In the big pen
Wants eleven dollar bills
You only got ten.

Maggie comes fleet foot
Face full of black soot
Talkin' that the heat put
Plants in the bed but
The phone's tapped anyway
Maggie says that many say
They must bust in early May
Orders from the DA
Look out kid
Don't matter what you did
Walk on your tip toes
Don't try, 'No Doz'
Better stay away from those
That carry around a fire hose
Keep a clean nose
Watch the plain clothes
You don't need a weather man
To know which way the wind blows.

Get sick, get well
Hang around an ink well
Ring bell, hard to tell
If anything is goin' to sell
Try hard, get barred
Get back, write Braille
Get jailed, jump bail Join the army, if you failed
Look out kid
You're gonna get hit
But users, cheaters
Six-time losers
Hang around the theaters
Girl by the whirlpool
Lookin' for a new fool
Don't follow leaders
Watch the parkin' meters.

Ah get born, keep warm
Short pants, romance, learn to dance
Get dressed, get blessed
Try to be a success
Please her, please him, buy gifts
Don't steal, don't lift
Twenty years of schoolin'
And they put you on the day shift
Look out kid
They keep it all hid
Better jump down a manhole
Light yourself a candle
Don't wear sandals
Try to avoid the scandals
Don't wanna be a bum
You better chew gum
The pump don't work
'Cause the vandals took the handles.

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BOB DYLAN
Copyright: Lyrics © BOB DYLAN MUSIC CO




She Belongs To Me

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, it sparkles before she speaks
She wears an Egyptian ring, it 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, buy her a trumpet
And for Christmas, get her a drum
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bob Dylan
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Maggies Farm

I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
No, I aint gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I wake up in the morning
Fold my hands and pray for rain
I got a head full of ideas
That are drivin' me insane
It's a shame the way she makes me scrub the floor
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.

I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother no more
No, I aint gonna work for Maggie's brother no more
Well, he hands you a nickel
He hands you a dime
He asks you with a grin
If you're havin' a good time
Then he fines you every time you slam the door
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's brother more.

I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more
No, I aint gonna work for Maggie's pa no more
Well, he puts his cigar
Out in your face just for kicks
His bedroom window
It is made out of bricks
The National Guard stands around his door
Ah, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's pa no more.

I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more
No, I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more
Well, when she talks to all the servants
About man and God and law
Everybody says
She's the brains behind pa
She's sixty-eight, but she says she's twenty-four
I ain't gonna work for Maggie's ma no more.

I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
I aint gonna work on Maggie's farm no more
Well, I try my best
To be just like I am
But everybody wants you
To be just like them
They say sing while you slave and I just get bored
I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.


[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bob Dylan
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, AUDIAM, INC




Love Minus Zero / No Limit

My love she speaks like silence
Without ideals or violence
She doesn't have to say she's faithful
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire
People carry roses
And make promises by the hours
My love she laughs like the flowers
Valentines can't buy her

In the dime stores and bus stations
People talk of situations
Read books, repeat quotations
Draw conclusions on the wall
Some speak of the future
My love she speaks softly
She knows there's no success like failure
And that failure's no success at all

The cloak and dagger dangles
Madams light the candles
In ceremonies of the horsemen
Even the pawn must hold a grudge
Statues made of matchsticks
Crumble into one another
My love winks, she does not bother
She knows too much to argue or to judge

The bridge at midnight trembles
The country doctor rambles
Bankers' nieces seek perfection
Expecting all the gifts that wise men bring
The wind howls like a hammer
The night blows rainy
My love she's like some raven
At my window with a broken wing
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bob Dylan
Copyright: Lyrics © AUDIAM, INC




Outlaw Blues

Ain't it hard to stumble
And land in some funny lagoon ?
Ain't it hard to stumble
And land in some muddy lagoon ?
Especially when it's nine below zero
And three o'clock in the afternoon.

Ain't gonna hang no picturev
Ain't gonna hang no picture frame
Ain't gonna hang no picture
Ain't gonna hang no picture frame
Well, I might look like Robert Ford
But I feel just like a Jesse James.

Well, I wish I was on some
Australian mountain range
Oh, I wish I was on some
Australian mountain range
I got no reason to be there, but I
Imagine it would be some kind of change.

I got my dark sunglasses
I got for good luck my black tooth
I got my dark sunglasses
I'm carryin' for good luck my black tooth
Don't ask me nothin' about nothin'
I just might tell you the truth.

I got a woman in Jackson
I ain't gonna say her name
I got a woman in Jackson
I ain't gonna say her name
She's a brown-skin woman, but I
Love her just the same.

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BOB DYLAN
Copyright: Lyrics © AUDIAM, INC




On The Road Again

Well, I wake up in the morning
There's frogs inside my socks
Your mama, she's a-hidin'
Inside the icebox
Your daddy walks in wearin'
A Napoleon Bonarparte mask
Then you ask why I don't live here
Honey, do you have to ask ?

Well, I got to pet your monkey
I get a face full of claws
I ask who's in the fireplace
And you tell me Santa Claus
The milkman comes in
He's wearing a derby hat
And you ask why I don't live here
Honey, how come you have to ask me that ?

Well, I asked for something to eat
I'm hungry as a hog
So I get brown rice, seaweed
And a dirty hot dog
I've got a hole
Where my stomach disappeared
Then you ask why I don't live here
Honey, I gotta think you're really weird.

Your grandpa's cane
It turns into a sword
Your grandma prays to pictures
That are pasted on a board
Everything inside my pockets
Your uncle steals
And you ask me why I don't live here
Honey, I can't believe that you're for real.

Well, there's fist fight in the kitchen
They're enough to make me cry
The mailman comes in
Even he's gotta take a side
Even the butler
He's got something to prove
Then you ask me why I don't live here
Honey, how come you don't move ?

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BOB DYLAN
Copyright: Lyrics © BOB DYLAN MUSIC CO




Bob Dylans 115th Dream

I was riding on the mayflower when I thought I spied some land
I was riding on the mayflower when I thought I spied some land
I yelled down to Captain Arab, I'll have ya understand
Who came running to the deck and said boys forget the whale
We're goin' over yonder, cut the engines, change the sails
Haul on that bowline we sang that melody
Like all tough sailors do when they're far away at sea

I think I'll call it America, I said as we hit land
I took a deep breath, I fell down, I could not stand
Captain Arab he starting writing out some deeds
He said let's build us a fort and start buying the place with beads
Just then a cop come down the street crazy as a loon
They throws us all in jail for carryin' harpoons

Aw, me, I busted out don't even ask me how
I went lookin' for some help, I walked past a guernsey cow
Who directed me down to the bowery slums
Where people carried signs around sayin' ban the bums
I jumped right in line, sayin' I hope that I'm not late
When I realized I hadn't eaten for five days straight

I went into a restaurant lookin' for the cook
I told him I was the editor of a famous etiquette book
The waitress he was handsome and he wore a powder blue cape
I ordered up some suzette, I said could you please make that crepe
Just then the whole kitchen exploded from boiling fat
Food was flyin' everywhere I left without my hat

I didn't mean to be nosy but I went into a bank
To get some bail for Arab the boys back in the tank
They asked me for some collateral and I pulled down my pants
They threw me in the alley, when up comes this girl from France
Who invited me to her house, I went, but she had a friend
Who knocked me out an' robbed my boots an' was I on the street again

I rapped upon a house with a US flag upon display
I said can you please help me out, I got some friends down the way
The man said get out of here I'll tear you limb from limb
I said you know, they refused Jesus, too, he said you're not him
Get out of here before I break your bones, I ain't your pop
I decided to have him arrested and went looking for a cop

I ran right outside and hopped inside a cab
I went out the other door this English man said fab
As he saw me leap a hot dog stand and a chariot that stood
Parked across from a building advertising brotherhood
I ran right through the front door like a hobo sailor does
But it was just a funeral parlor and the man asked me who I was
I repeated that all my friends were in jail, with a sigh
He gave me his card and said call me if they die
I shook his hand and said goodbye and went back out on the street
When a bowling ball came down the road and knocked me off my feet
A pay phone was ringin' and it just about blew my mind
When I picked it up an' said hello, this foot came through the line

Well about this time I was fed up at trying to make a stab
At bringing back any help for my friends and Captain Arab
I decided to flip a coin, like either heads or tails
Would let me know if I should go back to ship or back to jail
So I hocked my sailor's suit an' I got a coin to flip
It came up tails, it rhymed with sails, so I made it back to the ship

Well I got back and took the parking ticket off the mast
I was ripping it to shreds when this coast guard boat went past
They asked me my name and I said Captain Kidd
They believed me but they wanted to know exactly what I did
I said for the Pope of Eyruke I was employed
They let me go right away, they were very paranoid

Well the last I heard of Arab he was stuck on the side of a whale
That was married to the deputy sheriff of the jail
But the funniest thing was as I was leavin' the bay
I saw three ships sailing and they were all headed my way
I asked the Captain what his name was an' how come he didn't drive a truck
He said his name was Columbus an' I just said good luck
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bob Dylan
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Mr. Tambourine Man

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you

Though I know that evening's empire has returned into sand
Vanished from my hand
Left me blindly here to stand, but still not sleeping
My weariness amazes me, I'm branded on my feet
I have no one to meet
And the ancient empty street's too dead for dreaming

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you

Take me on a trip upon your magic swirling ship
My senses have been stripped
My hands can't feel to grip
My toes too numb to step
Wait only for my boot heels to be wandering
I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade
Into my own parade
Cast your dancing spell my way, I promise to go under it

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you

Though you might hear laughing, spinning, swinging madly across the sun
It's not aimed at anyone
It's just escaping on the run
And but for the sky there are no fences facing
And if you hear vague traces of skipping reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time
It's just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn't pay it any mind
It's just a shadow you're seeing that he's chasing

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you

And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted frightened trees
Out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
With one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate
Driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow

Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I'm not sleepy and there is no place I'm going to
Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I'll come following you
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bob Dylan
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Gates Of Eden

Of war and peace the truth just twists
Its curfew gull just glides
Upon four-legged forest clouds
The cowboy angel rides
With his candle lit into the sun
Though its glow is waxed in black
All except when 'neath the trees of Eden.

The lamppost stands with folded arms
Its iron claws attached
To curbs 'neath holes where babies wail
Though it shadows metal badge
All and all can only fall
With a crashing but meaningless blow
No sound ever comes from the Gates of Eden.

The savage soldiers sticks his head in sand
And then complains
Unto the shoeless hunter who's gone deaf
But still remains
Upon the beach where hound dogs bay
At ships with tatooed sails
Heading for the Gates of Eden.

With a time-rusted compass blade
Alladin and his lamp
Sits with Utopian hermit monks
Side saddle on the Golden Calf
And on their promises of paradise
You will not hear a laugh
All except inside the Gates of Eden.

Relationships of ownership
They whisper in the wings
To those condemned to act accordingly
And wait for succeeding kings
And I will try to harmonize with songs
The lonesome sparrow sings
There are no kings inside the Gates of Eden.

The motorcycle black madonna
Two-wheeled gypsy queen
And her silver-studded phantom cause
The gray flannel dwarf to scream
As he weeps to wicked birds of prey
Who pick up on his bread crumb sins
And there are no sins inside the Gates of Eden.

The kingdoms of Experience
In the precious wind they rot
While paupers change possessions
Each one wishing for what the other has got
And the princess and the prince
Discuss what's real and what is not
It doesn't matter inside the Gates of Eden.

The foreign sun, it squints upon
A bed that is never mine
As friends and other strangers
From their fates try to resign
Leaving men wholly totally free
To do anything they wish to do but die
And there are no trials inside the Gates of Eden.

At dawn my lower comes to me
And tells me of her dreams
With no attempts to shovel the glimpse
Into the ditch of what each one means
At times I think there are no words
But these to tell what's true
And there are no truths outside the Gates of Eden.

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BOB DYLAN
Copyright: Lyrics © AUDIAM, INC




Its Alright Ma (Im Only Bleeding)

Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child's balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool's gold mouthpiece
The hollow horn plays wasted words
Proves to warn that he not busy being born
Is busy dying

Temptation's page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover that you'd just be
One more person crying

So don't fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don't hate nothing at all
Except hatred

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much is really sacred

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have to stand naked

An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it

Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks they really found you

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to

For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Do what they do just to be nothing more than something they invest in

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society's pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole that he's in

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him

Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn't talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer's pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death's honesty
Won't fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes must get lonely

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards
False gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough
What else can you show me

And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine
But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BOB DYLAN
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Its All Over Now Baby Blue

Well, you must leave now, take what you need, you think will last
But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast
Yonder stands your orphan with his gun
Crying like a fire in the sun
Look out, the saints are comin' through
And it's all over now, baby blue

Well, the highway is for gamblers, better use your sense
Take what you have gathered from coincidence
The empty-handed painter from your streets
Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets
The sky, too, is folding under you
Yes, and it's all over now, baby blue

All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home
All your reindeer armies, they're all going home
The lover who has just walked out the door
Has taken all of his blankets from the floor
The carpet, too, is moving under you
Yes, and it's all over now, baby blue

Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you
Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you
The vagabond who's rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore
Strike another match, go start anew
Yes, and it's all over now, baby blue
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Bob Dylan
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Back to: Bob Dylan


Bringing It All Back Home (known as Subterranean Homesick Blues in some European countries; sometimes also spelled Bringin' It All Back Home) is the fifth studio album by the American singer-songwriter Bob Dylan, released in March 1965 by Columbia Records.[nb 1] In a major transition from his earlier sound, it was Dylan's first album to incorporate electric instrumentation, which caused controversy and divided many in the contemporary folk scene.

The album is split into two distinct halves; the first half of the album features electric instrumentation, in which on side one of the original LP, Dylan is backed by an electric rock and roll band. The second half features mainly acoustic songs. The album abandons the protest music of Dylan's previous records in favor of more surreal, complex lyrics.

The album reached No. 6 on Billboard's Pop Albums chart, the first of Dylan's LPs to break into the US Top 10. It also topped the UK charts later that spring. The first track, "Subterranean Homesick Blues", became Dylan's first single to chart in the US, peaking at No. 39.

Bringing It All Back Home has been described as one of the greatest albums of all time by multiple publications. In 2003, it was ranked number 31 on Rolling Stone's list of the "500 Greatest Albums of All Time", later repositioned to number 181 in the 2020 edition.
Genre(s): Folk rock, folk, blues
Producer(s): Tom Wilson
Length: 47:21
Released: March 22nd, 1965
Year: 1965

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