by Bob Dylan



There's a whole lot of people suffering tonight

From the disease of conceit.

Whole lot of people struggling tonight

From the disease of conceit.

Comes right down the highway,

Straight down the line,

Rips into your senses

Through your body and your mind.

Nothing about it that's sweet,

The disease of conceit.



There's a whole lot of hearts breaking tonight

From the disease of conceit,

Whole lot of hearts shaking tonight

From the disease of conceit.

Steps into your room,

Eats your soul,

Over your senses

You have no control.

Ain't nothing too discreet

About of disease of conceit.



There's a whole lot of people dying tonight

From the disease of conceit,

Whole lot of people crying tonight

From the disease of conceit,

Comes right out of nowhere

And you're down for the count

From the outside world,

The pressure will mount,

Turn you into a piece of meat,

The disease of conceit.



Conceit is a disease

That the doctors got no cure

They've done a lot of research on it

But what it is, they're still not sure



There's a whole lot of people in trouble tonight

From the disease of conceit,

Whole lot of people seeing double tonight

From the disease of conceit,

Give ya delusions of grandeur

And a evil eye

Give you idea that

You're too good to die,

Then they bury you from your head to your feet

From the disease of conceit.