They were trippin’ at the Foodbank.

Probably not like nothing’s new.

I just dropped in about an hour ago.

Sure was shocked when I saw you.

You were weaving. Your head was bobbin’.

Wasn’t like the good old days.

We were planning and sometimes robbin’

Bigger plans and tight screenplays.

So much freedom at the Opera.

There is meaning in that there song.

Now here we are on Desolation Row.

With no sense of what went wrong.

I was looking for some meaning.

Or maybe just one more verse.

They say nothing lasts forever.

Not even blessings or that curse.

You don’t know. I don’t believe in that.

No bad luck was in your fate.

You kept feeding those addictions.

With no pause or meditate.

I was making that delivery.

I passed by and saw your eyes.

Not a hint of recognition.

Or any need for sad goodbyes.

You are in the rearview mirror.

I am deep in Dylan song.

And living gender politics.

Where most opinion is all wrong.