Broken bottles, broken plates
Broken switches, broken gates
Broken dishes, broken parts
Streets are filled with broken hearts
Broken words never meant to be spoken
Everything is broken
Broken cutters, broken saws
Broken buckles, broken laws
Broken bodies, broken bones
Broken voices on broken phones
Broken hands on broken ploughs
Broken treaties, broken vows
Broken pipes, broken tools
People bending broken rules
Hound dog howling, bullfrog croaking
Everything is broken
Bob Dylan, 1989
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Bob has inspired me, and so herewith a lunch-time rumination:
Lets get busy, or in a tizzy
Fixing all them broken parts
Yes I know, it won’t be easy
Repairin all them broken hearts
Mr Dylan, if he’s willin
Could help fix what seems so broken
With a Nobel he’s been chillin
Great words from him now need be spoken
Memphis blues and other hues
Blood on the tracks or blowin in the wind
Just like a woman – just one of his clues
Gotta serve somebody unless they’ve sinned
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Now if I could just find an acoustic guitarist to add a melody. Hopefully one who didn’t blow his fingers off in his youth.
I know somebody who can mangulate that into a song, more or less. All royalties will be shared equally, within a margin of error or so.
Make that a half margin of error and you have a deal… My people will contact your people. After we win a Grammy, the first M-80 is on me.