by Bob Dylan

You speak to me in sign language,
As I´m eating a sandwich in a small cafe
At a quarter to three.

But I can´t respond to your sign language.
You´re taking advantage, bringing me down.
Can´t you make any sound?

´Twas there by the bakery, surrounded by fakery.
This is my story, still I´m still there.
Does she know I still care?

Link Wray was playing on a jukebox, I was paying
For the words I was saying, so misunderstood.
He didn´t do me no good.

First Verse

Second Verse