From the recording Like a Like a Rolling Stone
What if Bob Dylan had been born years later in Rio de Janeiro and his music influenced by the Funk Carioca style? What if during a global financial meltdown he began a work called Like Rolling Stone? To find out what it might sound like, give Like a Like a Rolling Stone a listen.
Lyrics
Like a Like a Rollin’ Stone
© John R Pollard
That expensive education
Bought you all you could be taught.
Then you took that corporate offer
Of a penny for your thoughts.
Well you looked good and you dressed right.
And your clothes had the right label.
Did you hear the folks around you saying
“Careful, nothing’s stable?”
Rollin stone, rollin’ stone
Got no moss yo rollin’ stone;
Rollin stone, rollin’ stone
Just a bag of skin and bone.
a chip split from the corner stone
like skin ripped when whip hits the bone
a sick blip in a market tome
alone, unknown, you have no home.
There was no one who looked better
Quite impressive all the time.
Did you ride high on a fat hog
In your life of corporate crime?
As they foreclose on your future
And you’re bulging student loan,
Do you bleed and seek a suture?
Do you cry “if I had known.”?
Rollin stone, rollin’ stone
Got no moss yo rollin’ stone;
Rollin stone, rollin’ stone
Just a bag of skin and bone.
a chip split from the corner stone (chip B)
like skin ripped when whip hits the bone
a sick blip in a market tome
alone, unknown, you have no home.
You get coca from Colombia.
You use it in your cola.
Are the poppies from Afghanistan
For muffins and granola?
Got a house out in the suburbs
With a lawn of poisoned grass
Now you can not pay the mortgage
And you fall from middle class.
Rollin stone, rollin’ stone
Are you just a rollin’ stone?
Rollin stone, rollin’ stone
Got no moss – just skin and bone.
a chip split from the corner stone
like skin ripped when whip hits the bone
a sick blip in a market tome
alone, unknown, you have no home.
Yahweh made a salty statue
And the gargoyle worked in stone.
Now they’re carving up the starving men,
And making soup from bones.
Are you friends with the grim reaper?
Bodies fall but who keeps score?
So you treat him to an endless feast
Of blood and guts and gore?
Rollin stone, rollin’ stone
Got no moss yo rollin’ stone;
Rollin stone, rollin’ stone
Just a bag of skin and bone.
a chip split from the corner stone
like skin ripped when whip hits the bone
a sick blip in a market tome
alone, unknown, you have no home;
alone, unknown, you have no home;
alone, unknown, you have no home.