Here are the words to my 'Song for Zimmerman'
Hey there Dylan
in your house of wood and bones
How's the attic keeping?
How's the telephones?
How's the times these days?
and how's the blues; are they still blue?
How are you?
How do you do?
Are you still doing what you do?
Hello from Congleton, and Crewe.
Hey there Dylan
How's the peace these days?
Are the sunsets looking pretty
like the milkwood from the olden days
are the sea sounds
sounding jangly; like an old guitar?
Is that sand in your voice
in your veins now,
or trapped in the treads of the tyres of your luxury car?
Does the never ending trek
come to an end?
Are you blowing in a wind
made by a billion unknown friends?
Still rough and rowdy?
Or do you play the joker?
Are you hiding a wildcard
in the great game of poker?
Are you riding the tracks
or are you the stoker?
What would Alfred
and his dynamite say?
Would you blow his mind
to kingdom come and far away?
Who is left
in the cave; when you roll that stone away?
What did God say
when his night
killed your day?
There's no need
to answer. Let the
mystery hang in the sky, like an apple of why
Let this no-one
send you a slice of American pie
a salute from the moribund
to a man who'll never die
How does it feel
to say; a happy goodbye?
How does it feel
To say a happy goodbye?
