Bob Dylan is my father, Joan Baez is my mother And I'm their bastard son Though my roots show through I'm just twenty two I don't belong to anyone When the band was disbanded, I was disowned I got a number you can ring me on but I ain't got no phone Got a forwarding address, baby I ain't got no home I got no direction home That's the style of a bastard child This is the song of a bastard son Uncle Lenny used to make me laugh Took away my nightmares, tore my daydreams in half Showed them to me reflected upside down In the mirror that Suzanne Vega found Lenny's still doing his tricks today Only goes to show that growing up might pay Bruce and James were family friends Took my mind to Carolina through the New Jersey bends Gave me a harmonica when I was three Nailed a banjo to my knees Now Bruce is a foreman and James is a slave Bruce gave in and James just gave up My family didn't grow up too well with technology And I think this is why they disowned me But now I wanna get back into the fold I don't wanna be a black sheep, I don't wanna grow old Here's to Warren, Neil, T-Bone, Andy, Lou, Townes, Elliott Tom, Steve, Elizabeth, Elvia, Dave You're singing something good and it's gotta be saved I think so! I've only just started playing guitar and already they say I'm a has-been Say my songs are too long, words are too strong, shoes Aren't clean See the synthesizer's broken, the 12 inch does not exist It's gonna take a blessed life to get on to the hit list I'm gonna need a blessed life to get on to the hitlist But I'm singing for the men, for the women and the kids Who grew up like me with seven basic instincts hid Bob Dylan is my father, Joan Baez is my mother And I'm their bastard son.
Written by: JOHN WESLEY HARDING
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC
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