Maybe Dylan's right, so I'll ****** my hand up high
And try to grasp an answer 'fore it blows across the sky
He warned me once of how the unchanging never fit
Into this world that always has to change at least a bit
Oh Dylan how your words can gently lift
My head from down where it has been in the darkened mental rift
I need your songs, your words, your cheer, because you've given me
The Vague Hope that I've needed to have the strength to be
An aged oak, a sapling pine, a brush of little mind
Thank you for your wisdom, Bob, you're always much too kind