This is the reason Bob Dylan won the Nobel Prize in Literatu

Only a pawn in (((their))) game

giving him the prize was retarded and anyone who disagrees can die

EVERYBODY MUST GET STONED

>>9944588
Why on Earth are people still trying to make him out to be a protest singer?

He's a song and dance man

>>9944588
My god this song is terrible. I think this has just proven to me how irrelevant the Nobel Prize committee really is.

Well, the Book of Leviticus and Deuteronomy,
The law of the jungle and the sea are your only teachers
In the smoke of the twilight on a milk-white steed,
Michelangelo indeed could've carved out your features
Resting in the fields, far from the turbulent space,
Half asleep near the stars with a small dog licking your face

A worried man with a worried mind
No one in front of me and nothing behind
There’s a woman on my lap and she’s drinking champagne
Got white skin, got assassin’s eyes
I’m looking up into the sapphire-tinted skies
I’m well dressed, waiting on the last train

There’s a long-distance train rolling through the rain

Tears on the letter I write

There’s a woman I long to touch and I miss her so much

But she’s drifting like a satellite
There’s a neon light ablaze in this green smoky haze

Laughter down on Elizabeth Street

And a lonesome bell tone in that valley of stone

Where she bathed in a stream of pure heat
Her father would emphasize you got to be more than streetwise

But he practiced what he preached from the heart

A full-blooded Cherokee, he predicted to me

The time and the place that the trouble would start
There’s a babe in the arms of a woman in a rage

And a longtime golden-haired stripper onstage

And she winds back the clock and she turns back the page

Of a book that no one can write

Oh, where are you tonight?
The truth was obscure, too profound and too pure

To live it you have to explode

In that last hour of need, we entirely agreed

Sacrifice was the code of the road
I left town at dawn, with Marcel and St. John

Strong men belittled by doubt

I couldn’t tell her what my private thoughts were

But she had some way of finding them out
He took dead-center aim but he missed just the same

She was waiting, putting flowers on the shelf

She could feel my despair as I climbed up her hair

And discovered her invisible self
There’s a lion in the road, there’s a demon escaped

There’s a million dreams gone, there’s a landscape being raped

As her beauty fades and I watch her undrape

I won’t but then again, maybe I might

Oh, if I could just find you tonight
I fought with my twin, that enemy within

’Til both of us fell by the way

Horseplay and disease is killing me by degrees

While the law looks the other way
Your partners in crime hit me up for nickels and dimes

The guy you were lovin’ couldn’t stay clean

It felt outa place, my foot in his face

But he should-a stayed where his money was green
I bit into the root of forbidden fruit

With the juice running down my leg

Then I dealt with your boss, who’d never known about loss

And who always was too proud to beg
There’s a white diamond gloom on the dark side of this room

And a pathway that leads up to the stars

If you don’t believe there’s a price for this sweet paradise

Remind me to show you the scars
There’s a new day at dawn and I’ve finally arrived

If I’m there in the morning, baby, you’ll know I’ve survived

I can’t believe it, I can’t believe I’m alive

But without you it just doesn’t seem right

Oh, where are you tonight?

To this day I'm proud that I don't know a single song (yes, they are songs, not poems) by this kike

>>9944588
>giving a fuck about awards

File: bob-dylan-thumbs-up[1].jpg (40KB, 585x421px) Image search: [Google]

40KB, 585x421px

Try to be pure at heart, they arrest you for robbery,
Mistake your shyness for aloofness, your silence for snobbery,
Got the message this morning, the one that was sent to me
About the madness of becomin' what one was never meant to be.

>>9944588
>Not posting Dylan's most brilliant song

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mYajHZ4QUVM

>>9944588
An ill conceived nostalgia award wrenched from the rancid prostates of senile, gibbering hippies.

I wonder how butthurt Borges' ghost is.

>>9948482
>ghost
I'm pretty sure at this point he self-resurrected and is currently making his way to Sweden by walking across the pacific ocean.

>>9944588
who?

File: Borges trippin balls.jpg (54KB, 405x470px) Image search: [Google]

54KB, 405x470px

>>9948482
He probably wouldn't care. He already knew the reason they deny him the prize was bulshit so that wouldn't surprise him.
Borges didin't give a fuck.

>>9946279
Ow, the edge.

Hey Mr CIA man
You are small for me
I'm in charge here
And there is no place you're flying to