Écouter Motorpsycho Nightmare par Bob Dylan

Motorpsycho Nightmare

Bob Dylan

Rock

7 859 Shazams

Clip vidéo

Bob Dylan - Motorpsycho Nightmare (Official Audio)
Regarder le vidéoclip de {trackName} par {artistName}

Apparaît dans

Écouter Another Side of Bob Dylan par Bob Dylan
ALBUMAnother Side of Bob DylanBob Dylan
Écouter Bob Dylan : les indispensables avec notamment Bob Dylan
PLAYLISTBob Dylan : les indispensablesApple Music : Rock
Écouter Les classiques acoustiques avec notamment Bob Dylan
PLAYLISTLes classiques acoustiquesApple Music : Acoustique
Écouter Folk : les indispensables avec notamment Bob Dylan
PLAYLISTFolk : les indispensablesApple Music : Blues
Écouter Mélancolie d’antan avec notamment Bob Dylan
PLAYLISTMélancolie d’antanApple Music : Classiques
Écouter Songwriters : les indispensables avec notamment Bob Dylan
PLAYLISTSongwriters : les indispensablesApple Music : Acoustique
Écouter Miley Cyrus : les influences avec notamment Bob Dylan
PLAYLISTMiley Cyrus : les influencesApple Music : Pop
Écouter James Taylor : les influences avec notamment Bob Dylan
PLAYLISTJames Taylor : les influencesApple Music : Acoustique
Écouter Iron & Wine : les influences avec notamment Bob Dylan
PLAYLISTIron & Wine : les influencesApple Music : Alternative
Écouter Bob Dylan: Chill avec notamment Bob Dylan
PLAYLISTBob Dylan: ChillApple Music
Écouter Bob Dylan : les méconnus avec notamment Bob Dylan
PLAYLISTBob Dylan : les méconnusApple Music : Rock

Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Bob Dylan
Bob Dylan
Paroles/Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Tom Wilson
Tom Wilson
Production

Paroles

I pounded on a farmhouse, lookin' for a place to stay I was mighty, mighty tired, I had come a long, long way I said, "Hey, hey, in there, is there anybody home?" I was standin' on the steps, feelin' most alone When out comes a farmer, he must have thought that I was nuts He immediately looked at me and stuck a gun into my guts I fell down to my bended knees Sayin', "I dig farmers, don't shoot me, please" He cocked his rifle and began to shout "Are you that travelin' salesman that I have heard about?" I said, "No, no, no, I'm a doctor and it's true I'm a clean-cut kid and I been to college, too" Then in comes his daughter whose name was Rita She looked like she stepped out of La Dolce Vita I immediately tried to cool it with her dad And told him what a nice, pretty farm he had He said, "What do doctors know about farms, pray tell?" I said, "I's born at the bottom of a wishing well" Well, by the dirt 'neath my nails I guess he knew I wouldn't lie He said, "I guess you're tired," he said it kinda sly I said, "Yes, ten thousand miles today I drove" He said, "I got a bed for you underneath the stove Just one condition an' you can go to sleep right now That you don't touch my daughter And in the morning, milk the cows" I was sleepin' like a rat when I heard something jerkin' There stood Rita, lookin' just like Tony Perkins She said, "Would you like to take a shower? I'll show you up to the door" I said, "Oh, no, no, I've been through this before" I knew I had to split, but I did not know how When she said, "Would you like to take that shower now?" Well, I couldn't leave unless the old man chased me out 'Cause I'd already promised that I'd milk his cows I had to say something to strike him very weird So I yelled, "I like Fidel Castro and his beard" Rita looked offended, but she got out of the way As he came chargin' down the stairs Sayin', "What's that I heard you say?" I said, "I like Fidel Castro, I think you heard me right" And I ducked as he swung at me with all his might Rita mumbled somethin' 'bout her mother on the hill As his fist had hit the icebox, he said he's gonna kill me If I don't get out the door in two seconds flat "You unpatriotic, rotten doctor, commie rat" Well, he threw a Reader's Digest at my head and I did run I did a somersault as I seen him get his gun And crashed through the window at a hundred miles an hour And landed fully blast in his garden flowers Rita said, "Come back" and he started to load The sun was comin' up and I was runnin' down the road Well, I don't figure I'll be back there for a spell Even though Rita moved away and got a job at a motel He still waits for me, constant, on the sly He wants to turn me in to the F.B.I. Me, I romp and stomp, thankful as I romp Without freedom of speech I might be in the swamp
Writer(s): Bob Dylan Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out