" The flowers of the city
though breathlike, get deathlike at times.
And there's no use in tryin'
t' deal with the dyin',
though I cannot explain that in lines.
Your cracked country lips,
I still wish to kiss,
as to be under the strength of your skin.
Your magnetic movements
still capture the minutes I'm in. "
bobby should have won the noble prize for literature, not some no-name loser. viva la dylan !