Got the Bob Dylan blues And the Bob Dylan shoes And my clothes and my hair's in a mess But you know I just couldn't care less Goin' to write me a song 'Bout what's right and what's wrong 'Bout god and my god and all that Quiet while I make like a cat 'Cause I'm a poet, don't ya know it And the wind, you can blow it Cause I'm Mr. Dylan, the king And I'm free as a bird on the wing Roam from town to town Guess I get people down But I don't care too much about that 'Cause my gut and my wallet are fat Make a whole lotta dough But I deserve it though I've got soul and a good heart of gold So I'll sing about war in the cold 'Cause I'm a poet, don't ya know it And the wind, you can blow it Cause I'm Mr. Dylan, the king And I'm free as a bird on the wing Well I sing about dreams And I rhymes it with "seems" 'Cause it seems that my dream always means That I can prophesy all kinds of things Well the guy that digs me Should try hard to see That he buys all my discs and a hat And when I'm in town, go see that 'Cause I'm a poet, don't ya know it And the wind, you can blow it Cause I'm Mr. Dylan, the king And I'm free as a bird on the wing