Bob Dylan is my father, Joan Baez is my mother

And I'm their bastard son

Though my roots show through I'm just 22

I don't belong to anyone

When The Band was disbanded, I was disowned

I got a number you can ring me on but I ain't got no phone

Got a forwarding address, baby I ain't got no home

I got no direction home

That's the style of a bastard child

This is the song of a bastard son



Uncle Lenny used to make me laugh

Took away my nightmares, tore my daydreams in half

Showed them to me reflected upside-down

In the mirror that Suzanne Vega found

Lenny's still doing his tricks today

Only goes to show that growing up might pay



Bruce and James were family friends

Took my mind to Carolina through the New Jersey bends

Gave me a harmonica when I was three

Nailed a banjo to my knees

Now Bruce is a foreman and James is a slave

Bruce gave in and James just gave up



My family didn't grow up too well with technology

And I think this is why they disowned me

But now I wanna get back into the fold

I don't wanna be a black sheep, I don't wanna grow old

Here's to Warren, Neil, T-Bone, Andy, Lou, Townes, Elliott

Tom, Steve, Elizabeth, Elvia, Dave

You're singing something good and it's gotta be saved

I think so!



I've only just started playing guitar and already they say

I'm a has-been

Say my songs are too long, words are too strong, shoes

aren't clean

See the synthesizer's broken, the 12 inch does not exist

It's gonna take a blessed life to get on to the hitlist

I'm gonna need a blessed life to get on to the hitlist

But I'm singing for the men, for the women and the kids

Who grew up like me with seven basic instincts h