Loving desolation row

I've loved the last week this Dylan's song. This morning, I've dreamt translate my reality with this genial rhythm, I've finally destroyed it. Now, with these kind of sounds, I understand why Juan loved this songwriter


She had arrived on a windy leave
when he cuts off the relationship
with her past life in a calmly tree
He was in love with her incarnate lip
and disappeared those confused years
when the cold stream had driven his life.
Our reality was over filthy and sad words
in the middle of people who brimmed grasses
who had forgotten their own possibilities.
We had been able to build wonderful houses
From our desolation rows

There were tires to close our future.
Now, we see those arrogant walls,
as dark and highs exhibited stones,
our happiness drawn our nice pictures
where we were the most handsome beings.
We couldn't know the real dominators.
We're only invited to share victories
that they wanted to share with us.
We forgotten mistakes and fights.
to know our desolation row

I want to disappear, time ago, I failed
I late discover that sun had hidden holes
but still we wanted to be bun by paradises
the present give you some of our big faults
nice houses were in the middle of the forest
You knew new forces but these strength cities
with their men spilling their sweats, without love
I was thinking, are living a possible reality
From desolation row.

Now, you proud sing over my big sins,
with a funny of tune electric violin
I'll love the new life near street
which you're showing me the only True
but where are people which wanted dreams?
you and I, have taken our hands ourselves
but alone?, as the improve every selfishness
Do you know where are the publicity to meet with everybody
because if not,
I'm walking sadly in the desolation row

The last ex president are being offended
by freedom supporters, who dance warrior ritual
This morning I'm asking you for a answer
about the chained prescriptions of worshipers
Their neon signs blink over our stupid steps
as if we could be ironed by their eternal superioty
Boycotter of freedom, never suffered drivers
with an only wheel and an expeditious crop
Leave your mess lied, your sweet skins, radiate hatred
we prefer glowing in our own desolation row

Discovering my poor grey hairs
that are making lose my truthfulness
where I was when we didn't fight?
against the sibylline snakes
To believe your unbeatable arguments
can you support a sinful ex president?
or will his mistake be your staircase?
Attention some rung can be hardly broken
by the haughtiness of accurate theories.
Fraying survival bags, to take our ways
across unknown desolation rows

A self-mentioned journalist,
threaten us to got away
he's spitting over our brains,
his merchandises of braggarts.
where are your salesmen bosses?
are you happy bathing in the filth?
why are the freedom so extolled by mercenaries?.
If we can discover Dylan's songs forecast paradise
where my soul will whistle flitted flights of birds
after listening to my steps across the desolation row
a day, we will discover that we were better if we met

A wonderful song, desolation row