When your mother sends back all your invitations
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And your father to your sister he explains
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That you're tired of yourself and all of your creations
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Won't you come see me, Queen Jane ?
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Won't you come see me, Queen Jane ?
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Now when all of the flower ladies want back what they have lent you
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And the smell of their roses does not remain
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And all of your children start to resent you
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Won't you come see me, Queen Jane ?
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Won't you come see me, Queen Jane ?
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Now when all the clowns that you have commissioned
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Have died in battle or in vain
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And you're sick of all this repetition
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Won't you come see me, Queen Jane ?
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Won't you come see me, Queen Jane ?
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When all of your advisers heave their plastic
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At your feet to convince you of your pain
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Trying to prove that your conclusions should be more drastic
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Won't you come see me, Queen Jane ?
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Won't you come see me, Queen Jane ?
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Now when all of the bandits that you turned your other cheek to
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All lay down their bandanas and complain
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And you want somebody you don't have to speak to
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Won't you come see me, Queen Jane ?
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Won't you come see me, Queen Jane ?
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Queen Jane Approximately
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Bob Dylan |