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| Early one morning the sun was shining |
| I was laying in bed |
| Wond'ring if she'd changed it all |
| If her hair was still red |
| Her folks they said our lives together |
| Sure was gonna be rough |
| They never did like Mama's homemade dress |
| Papa's bankbook wasn't big enough |
| And I was standing on the side of the road |
| Rain falling on my shoes |
| Heading out for the East Coast |
| Lord knows I've paid some dues getting through |
| Tangled up in blue. |
| She was married when we first met |
| Soon to be divorced |
| I helped her out of a jam I guess |
| But I used a little too much force |
| We drove that car as far as we could |
| Abandoned it out West |
| Split it up on a dark sad night |
| Both agreeing it was best |
| She turned around to look at me |
| As I was walking away |
| I heard her say over my shoulder |
| "We'll meet again someday on the avenue" |
| Tangled up in blue. |
| I had a job in the great north woods |
| Working as a cook for a spell |
| But I never did like it all that much |
| And one day the axe just fell |
| So I drifted down to New Orleans |
| Where I happened to be employed |
| Working for a while on a fishing boat |
| Right outside of Delacroix |
| But all the while I was alone |
| The past was close behind |
| I seen a lot of women |
| But she never escaped my mind and I just grew |
| Tangled up in blue. |
| She was working in a topless place |
| And I stopped in for a beer |
| I just kept looking at her side of her face |
| In the spotlight so clear |
| And later on as the crowd thinned out |
| I's just about to do the same |
| She was standing there in back of my chair |
| Said to me "Don't I know your name?" |
| I muttered something underneath my breath |
| She studied the lines on my face |
| I must admit I felt a little uneasy |
| When she bent down to tie the laces of my shoe |
| Tangled up in blue. |
| She lit a burner on the stove and offered me a pipe |
| "I thought you'd never say hello" she said |
| "You look like the silent type" |
| Then she opened up a book of poems |
| And handed it to me |
| Written by an Italian poet |
| From the thirteenth century |
| And every one of them words rang true |
| And glowed like burning coal |
| Pouring off of every page |
| Like it was written in my soul from me to you |
| Tangled up in blue. |
| I lived with them on Montague Street |
| In a basement down the stairs |
| There was music in the cafes at night |
| And revolution in the air |
| Then he started into dealing with slaves |
| And something inside of him died |
| She had to sell everything she owned |
| And froze up inside |
| And when finally the bottom fell out |
| I became withdrawn |
| The only thing I knew how to do |
| Was to keep on keeping on like a bird that flew |
| Tangled up in blue. |
| So now I'm going back again |
| I got to get her somehow |
| All the people we used to know |
| They're an illusion to me now |
| Some are mathematicians |
| Some are carpenter's wives |
| Don't know how it all got started |
| I don't what they're doing with their lives |
| But me I'm still on the road |
| Heading for another joint |
| We always did feel the same |
| We just saw it from a different point of view |
| Tangled up in blue. |
| Bridge: |
| x2 |
| Ending: |
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