Author Topic: John Brown - By Bob Dylan horror at it’s existential finest!  (Read 2484 times)


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And I couldn’t help but think, through the thunder rolling and stink
That I was just a puppet in a play
And through the roar and smoke, this string is finally broke
And a cannon ball blew my eyes away”

[Verse 12]
As he turned away to walk, his Ma was still in shock
At seeing’ the metal brace that helped him stand
But as he turned to go, he called his mother close
And he dropped his medals down into her hand