One Who Sings With His Tongue On

Don't Think Twice, It's Alright.

Just In Time For Bob Dylan To Recoil From The Attention, Leave The City For Woodstock, And Turn His Back On Fame.

All The Tired Horses In The Sun How'm I Supposed To Get Any Ridin' Done? Hmm.

For Them That Must Obey Authority/that They Do Not Respect In Any Degree/who Despise Their Jobs, Their Destinies/speak Jealously Of Them That Are Free

I Can Picture The Color Of The Song, Or The Shape Of It, Or Who It Is That I'm Trying To Appeal To, In The Song, And What I'm Trying To, Almost, Reinforce My Feelings For. And I Know That Sounds Sort Of Vague And Abstract, But I've Got A Handle On It When I'm Doing It.