The Velvet Underground The Black Angel's Death Song Mirrors Bob Dylan Career
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A. J. WebermanThe Velvet Underground The Black Angel's Death Song Mirrors Bob Dylan Career
Uploaded by
A. J. WebermanAJ WEBERMAN’S TRIBUTE TO LOU REED
The Velvet Underground - The Black
Angel's Death Song Mirrors Bob Dylan
Career
Ah fuck, here we go again. More Dylan worship. Dylan and Lou Reed had a mutual admiration
society going at the time I hung out with the good Dylan, not the sick Holocaust denying fucking
scum that unfortunately exists today. Dylan played him a lot when I was over hanging out in his
studio. Both were schemk heads.
The myriad choices of his fate
Set themselves out upon a plate
For him to choose
What had he to lose
Dylan had to decide whether he was going to go along with the program or do something that
not many Jewish kids did at the time. If he failed he would take his own life.
Not a ghost bloodied country
All covered with sleep
Where the black angel did weep
Not an old city street in the east
Gone to choose
So Dylan left Hibbing which was a sleepy economically depressed area and came to an old city
street known as MacDougall Street in the Eastern part of the country, New York City’s Green-
wich Village
And wandering's brother
Walked on through the night
With his hair in his face
On a long splintered cut from the knife of G.T.
And Dylan preserved even though he was cut from the bill at Gerdes “some people don’t have
much food on their table but they got a lot of knives and forks and the got to cut something.”
Dylan in Talkin New York.
The rally man's patter ran on through the dawn
Until we said so long
To his skull-shrill yell
Dylan who went down to civil rights rallys in the South and in D.C. sang protest message songs
until he started digging his own grave with the commie shit.
Shining brightly red-rimmed and
Red-lined with the time
Infused with the choice of the mind
On ice skates scraping chunks
From the bells
Obvious communistic (red) and in line with the Communistical times in the village songs poured
forth from Dylan’s infused with the thinking that this is what he has to do to get somewhere
although in reality he was on thin ice thanks to the acoustic music.
Cut mouth bleeding razor's
Forgetting the pain
Antiseptic remains cool goodbye
So you fly
To the cozy brown snow of the east
Gone to choose, choose again
Totally changing what came out of his mouth, cutting off his folk fans leaving with the remains of
his old songs who got pissed and booed him “a cool goodbye.” While this was happening Dylan
was getting into the brown heroin in New York City, choosing to be a smack head.
Sacrificials remains make it hard to forget
Where you come from
The stools of your eyes
Serve to realize fame, choose again
Again “remains” the old Dylan songs made it hard for his fans to forget where he came from but
the dilation of Dylan’s pupil’s are like stool pigeons and belie the fact that he is a junkie and is
using the money from his fame to buy dope.
And roverman's refrain of the sacrilege recluse
For the loss of a horse
Went the bowels and a tail of a rat
Come again, choose to go
So Dylan got a fucking gorilla on his back and dropped out of sight in Woodstock, became a
recluse while he kicked horse
And if Epiphany's terror reduced you to shame
Have your head bobbed and weaved
Choose a side to be on
If the stone glances off
Split didactics in two
Leave the colors of the mouse trails
Don't scream, try between
If you choose, if you choose, try to lose
For the loss of remain come and start
Start the game I che che che che I
Che che ka tak koh
Choose to choose
Choose to choose, choose to go
