Oh, hear this Robert Zimmerman
I wrote a song for you
About a strange young man called Dylan
With a voice like sand and glue
Some words had truthful vengeance
That could pin us to the floor
Brought a few more people on
And put the fear in a whole lot more
Ah, here she comes
Here she comes, here she comes again
The same old painted lady
From the brow of the superbrain
She'll scratch this world to pieces
As she comes on like a friend
Couple of songs from your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Gave your heart to every bedsit room, at least a
Picture on my wall
And you sat behind a million pair of eyes
And told them how they saw
Then we lost your train of thought
Your paintings are all your own
While troubles are rising, we'd rather be scared
Together than alone
Ah, here she comes
Here she comes, here she comes again
The same old painted lady
From the brow of the superbrain
She'll scratch this world to pieces
As she comes on like a friend
But a couple of songs from your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Now hear this, Robert Zimmerman
Though I don't suppose we'll meet
Ask your good friend Dylan
If he'd gaze a while down the old street
Tell him we've lost his poems
So we're writing on the walls
Give us back our unity
Give us back our family
You're every nation's refugee
Don't leave us with their sanity
Ah, here she comes
Here she comes, here she comes again
The same old painted lady
From the brow of the superbrain
She'll scratch this world to pieces
As she comes on like a friend
But a couple of songs from your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Ah, couple of songs from your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Oh, here she comes
Here she comes, and here she comes
I wrote a song for you
About a strange young man called Dylan
With a voice like sand and glue
Some words had truthful vengeance
That could pin us to the floor
Brought a few more people on
And put the fear in a whole lot more
Ah, here she comes
Here she comes, here she comes again
The same old painted lady
From the brow of the superbrain
She'll scratch this world to pieces
As she comes on like a friend
Couple of songs from your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Gave your heart to every bedsit room, at least a
Picture on my wall
And you sat behind a million pair of eyes
And told them how they saw
Then we lost your train of thought
Your paintings are all your own
While troubles are rising, we'd rather be scared
Together than alone
Ah, here she comes
Here she comes, here she comes again
The same old painted lady
From the brow of the superbrain
She'll scratch this world to pieces
As she comes on like a friend
But a couple of songs from your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Now hear this, Robert Zimmerman
Though I don't suppose we'll meet
Ask your good friend Dylan
If he'd gaze a while down the old street
Tell him we've lost his poems
So we're writing on the walls
Give us back our unity
Give us back our family
You're every nation's refugee
Don't leave us with their sanity
Ah, here she comes
Here she comes, here she comes again
The same old painted lady
From the brow of the superbrain
She'll scratch this world to pieces
As she comes on like a friend
But a couple of songs from your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Ah, couple of songs from your old scrapbook
Could send her home again
Oh, here she comes
Here she comes, and here she comes
Lyrics submitted by magicnudiesuit
Song for Bob Dylan Lyrics as written by David Bowie
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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it's no mystery that David Bowie, like so many of his conteporaries, was inspired early on by Dylan. Bowie was a folk singer long before "Space Oddity" became popular.
i guess Bowie felt Dylan was so inaccessible either by choice or status, that Bowie chose to address him by his proper name Robert Zimmerman.
i have always said that they don't make music like they used to. it seems to come less from the heart and more from the colon.
it seems to me Bowie is asking Zimmerman/Dylan to make music great again.
my personal opinion is if Dylan were anymore popular than he is now, he'd become another laughingtock sellout on TRL and if the Beatles were still alive and together today, they'd be having reunions every ten years and playing sellout revues in Vegas.