Bob Dylan is my father, Joan Baez is my mother
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And I'm their bastard son
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Though my roots show through I'm just 22
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I don't belong to anyone
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When The Band was disbanded, I was disowned
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I got a number you can ring me on but I ain't got no phone
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Got a forwarding address, baby I ain't got no home
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I got no direction home
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That's the style of a bastard child
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This is the song of a bastard son
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Uncle Lenny used to make me laugh
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Took away my nightmares, tore my daydreams in half
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Showed them to me reflected upside-down
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In the mirror that Suzanne Vega found
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Lenny's still doing his tricks today
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Only goes to show that growing up might pay
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Bruce and James were family friends
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Took my mind to Carolina through the New Jersey bends
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Gave me a harmonica when I was three
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Nailed a banjo to my knees
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Now Bruce is a foreman and James is a slave
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Bruce gave in and James just gave up
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My family didn't grow up too well with technology
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And I think this is why they disowned me
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But now I wanna get back into the fold
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I don't wanna be a black sheep, I don't wanna grow old
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Here's to Warren, Neil, T-Bone, Andy, Lou, Townes, Elliott
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Tom, Steve, Elizabeth, Elvia, Dave
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You're singing something good and it's gotta be saved
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I think so!
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I've only just started playing guitar and already they say
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I'm a has-been
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Say my songs are too long, words are too strong, shoes
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aren't clean
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See the synthesizer's broken, the 12 inch does not exist
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It's gonna take a blessed life to get on to the hitlist
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I'm gonna need a blessed life to get on to the hitlist
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But I'm singing for the men, for the women and the kids
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Who grew up like me with seven basic instincts hid
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Bob Dylan is my father, Joan Baez is my mother
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And I'm their bastard son.
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Bastard Son
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John Wesley Harding |