From the recording Dylan's Dead
You’re the one said Dylan’s dead. Purple desert prophet’s fled. Bloody wall and blackened road. Place where the disillusioned go. You’re the one said Dylan’s dead. Poetry lost under your bed. A thousand kids all sad and frail. Beneath the cities you hear them wail. Don’t give up on me. It’s only love will set you free. And don’t give up you see. There’s only hope for you and me. You’re the one said god is dead. Flew a jet right through his head. Once again we killed the dream. Onward marching soldiers sing. You’re the one said Dylan’s gone. Left a hole within us all. Dusty boots and tambourine. Polka dots and cellophane. Don’t give up on me. You’re the one said Luther’s slain. Tattered scriptures torn again. Motel room and burning bush. Carpet floor and sidewalk curb. I don’t believe there is a god. A heaven or hell, a higher law. Angels walk the streets at night. Demons twist and wiggle inside. Don’t give up on me. When we were young we streamed in green. Rode the grasses, ruled the leaves. The world was ripe, thick and sweet. Blades left stains upon our feet. Now the days fall down like milk. Cut the earth in rows of dirt. The ink runs bitter, blue and dark. Poems we wrote have missed the mark. Don’t give up on me.