"people ask why do I write the way I do
how foolish
how monsterish
a question like that hits me…
it makes me think that I’m doin nothin
it makes me think that I’m not being heard
yes above all the mumble jumble an rave praises
an all the records I’ve sold… thru all the packed
houses I play… thru all the communication systems
an rants an bellows an yellin an clappin comes
a statement like “why do you do what you do”
what is this?
some kind of constipated idiot world?
some kind of horseshoe game we’re all playin
responding only when a ringer clangs
no no no
not my world
everybody plays in my world
aint nobody first second third or fourth
everybody shoots at the same time
an ringers dont count
an everybody wins
an nobody loses
cause everybody lives an breathes
an takes up space
an cant be overlooked
an I am a people too
I cannot pretend I’m not"
Excerpt from a letter by Bob Dylan toBroadsidein 1964.
