Johnny'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-skin 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 D. A. 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 a 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 fail 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

Produced by Tom Wilson Photography by Daniel Kramer i'm standing there watching the parade/ feeling combination of sleepy john estes. jayne mansfield. humphry bogart/morti- mer snerd. murph the surf and so forth/ erotic hitchhiker wearing japanese blanket. gets my attention by asking didn't he see me at this hootenanny down in puerto vallarta, mexico/i say no you must be mistaken. i happen to be one of the Supremes/then he rips off his blanket an' suddenly becomes a middle-aged druggist. up for district attorney. he starts scream- ing at me you're the one. you're the one that's been causing all them riots over in vietnam. immediately turns t' a bunch of people an' says if elected, he'll have me electrocuted publicly on the next fourth of july. i look around an' all these people he's talking to are carrying blowtorches/ needless t' say, i split fast go back t' the nice quiet country. am standing there writing WHAAT? on my favorite wall when who should pass by in a jet plane but my recording engineer "i'm here t' pick up you and your lastest works of art. do you need any help with anything?'' (pause) my songs're written with the kettledrum in mind/a touch of any anxious color. un- mentionable. obvious. an' people perhaps like a soft brazilian singer . . . i have given up at making any attempt at perfection/ the fact that the white house is filled with leaders that've never been t' the apollo theater amazes me. why allen ginsberg was not chosen t' read poetry at the inauguration boggles my mind/if someone thinks norman mailer is more important than hank williams that's fine. i have no arguments an' i never drink milk. i would rather model har- monica holders than discuss aztec anthropology/ english literature. or history of the united nations. i accept chaos. I am not sure whether it accepts me. i know there're some people terrified of the bomb. but there are other people terrified t' be seen carrying a modern screen magazine. experience teaches that silence terrifies people the most . . . i am convinced that all souls have some superior t' deal with/like the school system, an invisible circle of which no one can think without consulting someone/in the face of this, responsibility/security, success mean absolutely nothing. . . i would not want t' be bach. mozart. tolstoy. joe hill. gertrude stein or james dean/they are all dead. the Great books've been written. the Great sayings have all been said/I am about t' sketch You a picture of what goes on around here some- times. though I don't understand too well myself what's really happening. i do know that we're all gonna die someday an' that no death has ever stopped the world. my poems are written in a rhythm of unpoetic distortion/ divided by pierced ears. false eyelashes/sub- tracted by people constantly torturing each other. with a melodic purring line of descriptive hollowness -- seen at times through dark sunglasses an' other forms of psychic explosion. a song is anything that can walk by itself/i am called a songwriter. a poem is a naked person . . . some people say that i am a poet (end of pause) an' so i answer my recording engineer "yes. well i could use some help in getting this wall in the plane" -- By Bob Dylan