to anybody it may concern ....
clark?
mairi?
phillip?
edith?
mr. lamont?
countless faces I do not know
an all fighters for good things I can not see
when I speak of bald heads, I mean bald minds
when I speak of the seashore, I mean the restin shore
I dint know why I mentioned either of them
my life runs in a series of moods
in private an in personal ways, sometimes,
I, myself, can change the mood I'm in t the
mood I like t be in, when I walked thru the
doors of the americana hotel, I needed t change
my mood ... for reasons inside myself
I am a restless soul
hungry
perhaps wretched
it is hard to hear someone you dont know, say
"this is what he" "meant" "t say" about something
you just said
for no one can say what I meant t say
absolutely no one
at time I even cant
that was one of those times
my life is lived out daily in the places i feel
most comfortable in. these places are places where
i am unknown an unstared at. I perform rarely, an
when I do, there is a constant commotion burnin
at my body an at my mind because of the attention
aimed at me. instincts fight my emotion an fears
fight my instincts ...
I do not claim t be smart by the standards set up
I dont even claim to be normal by the standards set up
an I do not claim to know any kind of truth
but like an artist who puts his painting (after
he's painted it) in front of thousands of unknown
eyes, I also put my song there that way
(after I've made it)
it is as easy an as simple as that
I can not speak, I can not talk
I can only write an I can only sing
perhaps I should've sung a song
but that wouldn't a been right either
for I was given an award not to sing
but rather on what I have sung
no what I should've said was
"thank you very much ladied an gentlemen"
yes that is what I should've said
an I didn't because I did not know
I thought something else was expected of me
other than just sayin "thank you"
an I didn't know what it was
it is a fierce heavy feelin
thinkin somethin
is expected of you
but you dont know what exactly it is ....
it brings forth a weird form of guilt
I should've remembered
"I am BOB DYLAN an I dont have to speak"
"I dont have t say nothin if I dont wanna"
but
I didn't remember
I constantly asked myself while eatin supper
"what should I say? what should I tell'm?"
"everybody else is gonna tell'm somethin"
but I could not answer myself
I even asked someone who was sittin nex t me
an he couldn't tell me either, my mind blew
up an needless t say I had t get it back in its
rightful shape (whatever that might be) an so
I escaped from the big room.... only t hear my
name being shouted an the words "git in here,"
"git in here" overlappin with the findin of my
hand being pulled across hundreds of tables
with the lights turned on strong.... guidin me
back t where I tried t escape from
"what should I say? what should I say?"
over an over again
oh God, I'd a given anything not t be there
"shut the lights off at least"
people were coughin an my head was poundin
an the sounds of mumble jumble sank deep in
my skull from all sides of the room
until I tore everything loose from my mind
an said "just be honest, dylan, just be honest"
an so I found myself in front of the plank
like I found myself once in the path of a car
an I jumped....
jumped with all my bloody might
just tryin t get out o the way
but first screamin one last song
when i spoke of Lee Oswald, I was speakin of the times
I was not speakin of his deed if it was his deed
the deed speaks for itself
but I am sick
so sick
at hearin "we all share the blame" for every
church bombing, gun battle, mine disaster,
poverty explosion, an president killing that comes about
it is so easy t say "we" an bow our heads together
I must say "I" alone an bow my head alone
for it is I alone who is livin my life
I have beloved companions but they do not
eat nor sleep for me
an even they must say "I"
yes if there's violence in the times then
there must be violence in me
I am not a perfect mute
I hear the thunder an I cant avoid hearin it
once this is straight between us, it's then an
only then that we can say "we" an really mean
it.... an go on from there t do something about it
When I spoke of Negroes
I was speakin of my Negro friends
from harlem
an jackson
selma an birmingham
atlanta, pittsburgh, an all points east
west, north, south an wherever else they
might happen t be
i rat filled rooms
an dirt land farms
schools, dimestores, factories,
pool halls an street corners
the ones that dont own trees
but know proudly they dont have to
not one little bit
they dont have t be like they naturally aint
t get what they naturally own no more'n anybody
else does
it only gets things complicated
an leads people into thinkin the wrong things
black skin is black skin
it cant be covered by clothes an made t seem
acceptable, well liked an respectable....
t teach that or t think that just tends the
flames of another monster myth....
it is naked black skin an nothin else
if a Negro has t wear a tie t be a Negro
then I must cut off all ties with who he has
t do it for
I do not know why I wanted t say this that nite
perhaps it was just one of the many things
in my mind
born from the confusion of my times
when I spoke about the people that went t Cuba
I was speakin of the free right t travel
I am not afraid t see things
I challenge seein things
I am insulted t the depths of my soul
when someone I dont know commands that I
cant see this an gives me mysterious reasons
why I'll get hurt if I do see it.... tellin me
at the same time about goodness an badness in
people that again I dont know....
I've been told about people all my life
about niggers, kikes, wops, bohunks, spicks, chinks,
an I been told how they eat, dress, walk, talk,
steal, rob an kill but nobody tells me how any of'm cries
or laughs or kisses, I'm fed up with most newspapers,
radios, tv an movies an the like t tell me, I want
now t see an know for myself....
an I accepted that award for all others like me
who want t see for themselves.... an who dont want
that God-given right taken away
stole away
or snuck out from beneath them
yes a travel ban in the south would protect
Americans more, I'm sure, than the one t Cuba
but in all honesty I would want t crash that
one too
do you understand?
do you really understand?
I mean I want t see. I want t see all I can
every place there is t see it
my life carries eyes
an they're there for one reason
the reason t see thru them
my country is the Minnesota -- North Dakota territory
that's where I was born an learned how t walk an
it's where I was born an learned how t walk an
it's where I was raised an went t school .... my
youth was spent wildly among the snowy hills an
sky blue lakes, willow fields an abandoned open
pit mines, contrary t rumors, I am very proud of
where I'm from an also the many blood streams that
run in my roots but I would not be doing what
I'm doing today if I hadn't come t New York. I was
given my direction from new york. I was fed in
new york. I was beaten down by new york an I was
picked up by new york. I was made t keep going on
by new york. I'm speakin now of the people I've met
who were strugglin for their lives an other peoples'
lives in the thirties an forties an the fifties
an look t their times
I reach out t their times
so, in a sense, I'm jealous of their times
t think I have no use for old people is a betrayin thought
those that know me know otherwise
those that don't, probably're baffled
like a friend of mine, jack elliot, who says he
was reborn in Oklahoma, I say I was reborn in
New York ....
there is no age limit stuck on it
an no one is more conscious of it than I
yes it's a fierce feeling, knowing something you
dont know about's expected of you, but it's worse
if you blindly try t follow with explodin words
(for that's all they can do is explode)
an the explodin words're misunderstood
I've heard I was misunderstood
i do not apologize for myself nor for my fears
I do not apologize for any statement which led
some t believe "oh my God! I think he's the one
that really shot the president"
I am a writer an a singer of the words I write
A am no speaker nor any politician
an my songs speak for me because i Write them
in the confinement of my own mind an gave t cope
with no one except my own self. I dont have t face
anyone with them until long after they're done
no I do not apologize for being me nor any part of me
but I can return what is rightfully yours at any
given time, I have stared at it for a long while
now. it is a beautiful award, there is a kindness
t mr Paine's face an there is almost a sadness in
his smile. his trials show thru his eyes. I know
really not much about him but somehow I would like
t'sing for him. there is a gentleness in his way
yes thru all my flounderin wildness, I am, when it
comes down to it, very proud that you have given this
t me. I would hang it high, an let my friends see in
it what I see, but I also would give it back, if
you wish. There is no sense in keeping it if you're
made a mistake in givin it. fir it means more'n any
story bought thing and it'd only be cheetin t keep it
also I did not know that the dinner was a donation
dinner. I did not know you were gonna ask anyone
for money, an I understand you lost money on the
masterful way I expressed myself.... then I am in debt t you
not a money debt but rather a moral debt
if you'd sold me something then it'd be a money debt
but you sold nothin, so it's a moral debt
an moral debts're worse'n money debts
for they have t be paid back in whatever is missing
an in this case it's money
please send me a bill
an I shall pay it
no matter what the sum
I have a hatred of debts an want to be even in
the best way I can
you needn't think about this, for money mens
very little t me
so then
I'll return once again t the road
I can't tell you why other people write, but I
write in order to keep from going insane
my head, I expect'd turn inside out if my hands
were t leave me
but i hardly ever talk about why I write, an I
scarcely ever think about it, the thought of it is
too alarmin
an I never ever talk about why I speak
but that's because I never do it. this is the
first time I am talkin about it.... an I pray
the last
the thought of doing it again is too scary
ha! it's a scary world
but only once in a while huh?
I love you all up there an the ones i dont love
it's only because I do no know them an have not
seen them.... God it's so hard hatin it. it's so
tiresome.... an after hatin something to death,
it's never worth the bother and trouble
out! out! brief candle
life's but an open window
an I must jump back thru it now
see yuh
respectfully an unrespectfully
bob dylan