Vārdi: Bob Dylan. Series of Dreams.

I was thinking of a series of dreams
Where nothing comes up to the top
Everything stays down where it's wounded
And comes to a permanent stop

Wasn't thinking of anything specific
Like in a dream when someone wakes up and screams
Nothing truly very scientific
Just thinking of a series of dreams

Thinking of a series of dreams
Where the time and the tempo drag
And there's no exit in any direction
'Cept the one that you can't see with your eyes

Wasn't making any great connections
Wasn't falling for any intricate schemes
Nothing that would pass inspection
I was just thinking of a series of dreams

Dreams where the umbrella is folded
And into the path you are hurled
And the cards are no good that you're holding
Unless they are from another world

In one, the surface was frozen
In another, I witnessed a crime
In one, I was running, and in another
All I seemed to be doing was climb

Wasn't looking for any special assistance
And not going to any great extremes
I'd already gone the distance
Was just thinking of a series of dreams

Dreams where the umbrella is folded
And into the path you are hurled
And the cards are no good that you're holding
Unless they are from another world

I'd already gone the distance
Just thinking of a series of dreams
Just thinking of a series of dreams
Just thinking of a series of dreams