Bob Dylan - Untitled 10 (Politics) lyrics

you tell me about politics this that you speak of rats. geese. a world of peace you stumble stammer pound your fist an' i tell you there are no politics you swear tell me how much you care you cheat the lunch counter man out of a pack of cigarettes an' i tell you there are no politics you tell me of goons' graves. ginks an' finks an' of what you've read an' how things should be an' what you'd do if . . . an i say someone's been tamperin' with your head you jump raise your voice an' gyrate yourself t' the tone of principles your arm is raised an' i tell you there are no politics in the afternoon you run t' keep appointments with false lovers an' this leaves you drained by nightfall you ask me questions an' i say that every question if it's a truthful question can be answered by askin' it you stomp get mad i say it's got nothin' t' do with gertrude stein you turn your eyes t' the radio an' tell me what a wasteland exists in television you rant an' rave of poverty your fingers crawl the walls the screen door leaves black marks across your nose your breath remains on window gla** bullfight posters hang crooked above your head an' the phone rings constantly you tell me how much i've changed as if that is all there is t' say out of the side of your mouth while talkin' on the wires in a completely different tone of voice than you had a minute ago when speakin' t' me about something else i say what's this about changes? you say “let's go get drunk” light a cigarette “an' throw up on the world” you go t' your closet mumblin' about the phoniness of churches an' spastic national leaders i say groovy but also holy hollowness too yes hollow holiness an' that some of my best friends know people that go t' church you blow up slam doors say “can't no one say nothin' t' you” s say “what do You think?” your face laughs you say “oh yeeeeeaah?” i'm gonna break up i say an' reach for your coat ‘neath piles of paper slogans i say your house is dirty you say you should talk your hallway stinks as we walk through it your stairs tilt drastically your railing's rotted an' there's blood at the bottom of your steps you say t' meet bricks with bricks i say t' meet bricks with chalk you tell me monster floor plans an' i tell you about a bookie shop in boston givin' odds on the presidential race i'm not gonna bet for a while i say little children shoot craps in the alley garbage pot you say “nothin's perfect” an' i tell you again there are no politics