it ain't where you're from, its where you're going to
Bob DylanThey're selling postcards of the hanging
They're painting the passports brown The beauty parlor is filled with sailors
The circus is in town
Here comes the blind commissioner
They've got him in a trance
One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker
The other is in his pants
And the riot squad they're restless
They need somewhere to go
As Lady and I look out tonight
From Desolation Row.
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People seldom do what they believe in. They do what is convenient, then repent.
Bob DylanMostra la citazione in tedesco
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