Bob Dylan: Man In The Long Black Coat
Crickets are chirping, the water is high,
there's a soft cotton dress on the line hanging dry,
the window's wide open. African trees
bent over backwards from a hurricane breeze.
Not a word of goodbye, not even a note:
She's gone with the man in the long black coat.
Somebody seen him hanging around
at the old dance hall on the outskirts of town.
He looked into her eyes when she stopped him to ask
if he wanted to dance. He had a face like a mask.
Somebody said, from the Bible he'd quote:
There was dust on the man in the long black coat.
Preacher's a-talking, there's a sermon he gave:
He said, every man's conscience is vile and depraved.
You cannot depend on it to be your guide
when it's you who must keep it satisfied.
It ain't easy to swallow, it sticks in the throat
to give a heart to the man in the long black coat.
There are no mystics in life, some people say.
It is true sometime. You can see it that way.
People don't live or die, people just float…
She went with the man in the long black coat.
There's smoke on the water, it's been there since June,
tree trunks uprooted 'neath the high crescent moon
feel the pulse and vibration and the rumbling force –
somebody is out there beating on a dead horse.
She never said nothing, there was nothing she wrote.
She's gone with the man in the long black coat.
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Wenn wir schon alles falsch machen, dann wenigstens richtig.