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作词 : Dylan |
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Early one mornin'' the sun was shinin'', |
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I was layin'' in bed |
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Wond''rin'' if she''d changed at all |
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If her hair was still red. |
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Her folks they said our lives together |
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Sure was gonna be rough |
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They never did like Mama''s homemade dress |
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Papa''s bankbook wasn''t big enough. |
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And I was standin'' on the side of the road |
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Rain fallin'' on my shoes |
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Heading out for the East Coast |
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Lord knows I''ve paid some dues gettin'' through, |
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Tangled up in blue. |
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She was married when we first met |
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Soon to be divorced |
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I helped her out of a jam, I guess, |
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But I used a little too much force. |
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We drove that car as far as we could |
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Abandoned it out West |
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Split up on a dark sad night |
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Both agreeing it was best. |
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She turned around to look at me |
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As I was walkin'' away |
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I heard her say over my shoulder, |
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"We''ll meet again someday on the avenue," |
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Tangled up in blue. |
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I had a job in the great north woods |
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Working as a cook for a spell |
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But I never did like it all that much |
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And one day the ax just fell. |
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So I drifted down to New Orleans |
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Where I happened to be employed |
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Workin'' for a while on a fishin'' boat |
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Right outside of Delacroix. |
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But all the while I was alone |
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The past was close behind, |
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I seen a lot of women |
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But she never escaped my mind, and I just grew |
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Tangled up in blue. |
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|
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She was workin'' in a topless place |
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And I stopped in for a beer, |
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I just kept lookin'' at the side of her face |
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In the spotlight so clear. |
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And later on as the crowd thinned out |
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I''s just about to do the same, |
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She was standing there in back of my chair |
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Said to me, "Don''t I know your name?" |
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I muttered somethin'' underneath my breath, |
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She studied the lines on my face. |
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I must admit I felt a little uneasy |
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When she bent down to tie the laces of my shoe, |
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Tangled up in blue. |
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|
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She lit a burner on the stove and offered me a pipe |
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"I thought you''d never say hello," she said |
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"You look like the silent type." |
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Then she opened up a book of poems |
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And handed it to me |
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Written by an Italian poet |
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From the thirteenth century. |
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And every one of them words rang true |
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And glowed like burnin'' coal |
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Pourin'' off of every page |
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Like it was written in my soul from me to you, |
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Tangled up in blue. |
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|
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I lived with them on Montague Street |
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In a basement down the stairs, |
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There was music in the cafes at night |
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And revolution in the air. |
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Then he started into dealing with slaves |
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And something inside of him died. |
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She had to sell everything she owned |
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And froze up inside. |
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And when finally the bottom fell out |
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I became withdrawn, |
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The only thing I knew how to do |
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Was to keep on keepin'' on like a bird that flew, |
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Tangled up in blue. |
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|
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So now I''m goin'' back again, |
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I got to get to her somehow. |
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All the people we used to know |
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They''re an illusion to me now. |
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Some are mathematicians |
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Some are carpenter''s wives. |
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Don''t know how it all got started, |
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I don''t know what they''re doin'' with their lives. |
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But me, I''m still on the road |
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Headin'' for another joint |
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We always did feel the same, |
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We just saw it from a different point of view, |
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Tangled up in blue. |
