I can still remember the elation I felt When I first realized I had magic That I could do things that cannot be done In ways that were impossible I remember like it was just five seconds ago Because it was But magic is nothing, you know Can you feel it Can you feel the real power Bob Dylan is singing to Mr. Jones and playing the electric guitar For some people electric Bob is blasphemy, but not for me It was meant to be, and it's brought us here There's an Asian vibe to the dance music To the deep throb of the bass The strings sound like Kashmir, not China They sound like Bangladesh You cannot sit still You must move something, if only slightly Where will the homeless sleep tonight In the relentless Texas heat They will survive, most of them, until tomorrow They will sit, some of them, and play chess At the sidewalk tables outside tomorrow evening They will play against businessmen and artists and college students Some they know and some they don't The chess homeless are proud They never ask for anything Do the gods cry when Bob Dylan sings with acoustic guitar Is it for joy or for shame Is it all their fault, the pain in that harmonica The lyrics that make your chest feel hollow While your toe taps to the beat Do they know they are to blame For the plight of women and men That could drive a Minnesota man To medicate away his mind They must cry How can I work magic If I cannot dance to this music How can I write anything that's not written yet That Bob hasn't said I can still remember the sadness I felt When I knew there was no magic in the world I remember like it was just five seconds ago Because it was
