Syd Barrett

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

 

Gonna write me a song

Bout’ what’s right and what’s wrong

Bout’ god and my girl and all that

Quiet while I make like a cat

 

Cause I’m a poet

Don’t you 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 you 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