Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.
While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.
An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.
Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.
You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.
A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.
Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.
~~~~daily dylan~~~~
I love Bob Dylan, as anyone who reads this journal might have guessed by my daily posting of excerpts of his work. I don't like old things for the sake of them being old. I am not a grumpy old man, but I have to say, they don't make 'em like that any more. No one writes alternatively about intensely personal and globally important issues. Bono tries to tackle both subjects, but whil e I do like u2 a great deal, I don't think that anyone is going to get Bono and Bob mixed up at Def Poetry Jam. Chuck D did, but I really haven't heard him write anything in years.
On a note, because I get so much fan mail asking for Daily Updates, the Mets won last night 3 - 2 in 11 innings. Tyler Yates pitched a brilliant 6 innings in his Major Leage debut as the Metropolitans defeated a game Expos squad and their own incompetent manager, Art Howe who managed to remove Piazza, Floyd and Jason Phillips from a 2 - 0 game in the eighth despite having to rely on an incredibly overtaxed bullpen. My kingdom for Bobby Valentine.
In another unrelated yet happy story, the Yanquis got trounced before their throng of fair weather fans in the Bronx yesterday. Their 184 million dollar lineup showed little patience and skill against the notriously wild Judy, err John Garland, and Magglio Ordonez hit Jose Contreras with a ferocious swat to send the Bombers back to .500. God, life would be sweet if that team falls on its overpaid ass.
And on this Easter weekend, let us put aside base hopes of getting laid and drunk and let us pray for something worthwhile. Go to church now and light candles for the return of The Passion of The Jose Reyes from the disabled list.
This has been Trash with Sports
As human gods aim for their mark
Made everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It's easy to see without looking too far
That not much
Is really sacred.
While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have
To stand naked.
An' though the rules of the road have been lodged
It's only people's games that you got to dodge
And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.
Advertising signs that con you
Into thinking you're the one
That can do what's never been done
That can win what's never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you.
You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks
They really found you.
A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy
Insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not fergit
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to.
Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.
~~~~daily dylan~~~~
I love Bob Dylan, as anyone who reads this journal might have guessed by my daily posting of excerpts of his work. I don't like old things for the sake of them being old. I am not a grumpy old man, but I have to say, they don't make 'em like that any more. No one writes alternatively about intensely personal and globally important issues. Bono tries to tackle both subjects, but whil e I do like u2 a great deal, I don't think that anyone is going to get Bono and Bob mixed up at Def Poetry Jam. Chuck D did, but I really haven't heard him write anything in years.
On a note, because I get so much fan mail asking for Daily Updates, the Mets won last night 3 - 2 in 11 innings. Tyler Yates pitched a brilliant 6 innings in his Major Leage debut as the Metropolitans defeated a game Expos squad and their own incompetent manager, Art Howe who managed to remove Piazza, Floyd and Jason Phillips from a 2 - 0 game in the eighth despite having to rely on an incredibly overtaxed bullpen. My kingdom for Bobby Valentine.
In another unrelated yet happy story, the Yanquis got trounced before their throng of fair weather fans in the Bronx yesterday. Their 184 million dollar lineup showed little patience and skill against the notriously wild Judy, err John Garland, and Magglio Ordonez hit Jose Contreras with a ferocious swat to send the Bombers back to .500. God, life would be sweet if that team falls on its overpaid ass.
And on this Easter weekend, let us put aside base hopes of getting laid and drunk and let us pray for something worthwhile. Go to church now and light candles for the return of The Passion of The Jose Reyes from the disabled list.
This has been Trash with Sports
VIEW 16 of 16 COMMENTS
x_doug_x:
excellent sports cast. can i do the weather?
catiedid:
bring it down, we'll have a beer and a listen