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The Bootleg Series, Vol. 6: Live 1964: Concert at Philharmonic Hall
Disc 1
01. The Times They Are A‐Changin’
02. Spanish Harlem Incident
03. Talkin’ John Birch Paranoid Blues
04. To Ramona
05. Who Killed Davey Moore?
06. Gates of Eden
07. If You Gotta Go, Go Now
08. It’s Alright, Ma (I’m Only Bleeding)
09. I Don’t Believe You (She Acts Like We Never Have Met)
10. Mr. Tambourine Man
11. A Hard Rain’s A‐Gonna Fall
Disc 2
01. Talkin’ World War III Blues
02. Don’t Think Twice, It’s All Right
03. The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll
04. Mama, You Been on My Mind
05. Silver Dagger
06. With God on Our Side
07. It Ain’t Me, Babe
08. All I Really Want to Do
Ramona, come closer, shut softly your watery eyes
The pangs of your sadness will pass as your senses will rise
For the flowers of the city
Though breathlike, get deathlike sometimes
And there's no use in trying to deal with the dying
Though I cannot explain that in lines

Your cracked country lips, I still wish to kiss
As to be by the strength of your skin
Your magnetic movement still captures the minutes I'm in
But it grieves my heart, love
To see you tryin' to be a part of a world that just don't exist
It's all just a dream, babe
A vacuum, a scheme, babe
That sucks you into feelin' like this

I can see that your head has been twisted and fed
With worthless foam from the mouth
I can tell you are torn between staying
And returning back to the South
You've been fooled into thinking that the finishing end is at hand
Yet there's no one to beat you, no one to defeat you
'Xcept the thoughts of yourself feeling bad

I've heard you say many times
That you're better than no one and no one is better than you
If you really believe that
You know you have nothing to win and nothing to lose

From fixtures and forces and friends
Your sorrow does stem
That hype you and type you
And making you feel that you gotta be just like them

I'd forever talk to you
But soon my words would turn into a meaningless ring
For deep in my heart I know there's no help I can bring
Everything passes, everything changes
Just do what you think you should do
And someday maybe, who knows, baby
I'll come and be crying to you