Bob Dylan

Inside the museums infinity goes up on trial,
Voices echo this is what salvation must be like after a while,
But Mona Lisa musta had the highway blues
You can tell by the way she smiles.

See the primitive wallflower freeze,
When the jelly-faced women all sneeze,
Hear the one with the mustache say, “Jeeze I can’t find my knees,”
Oh, jewels and binoculars hang from the head of the mule,

But these visions of Johanna, they make it all seem so cruel.

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