Song to Bob

I'm down here a hundred miles from my home
Treading a path no other man has walked down
I know there's a song,
but can't get it out of my head,
hear professors, politicians,
and pursers instead

Hey, Bob Dylan, I wrote you a song
about a weary old world that's a-draggin' along
It's still sick, it's still hungry,
tired, and torn
The only difference is now
no one cares anymore

Hey, Bob Dylan, I want you to hear
that my generation won't give in to fear
You sang it to Woody, now I'm singing it to you
'cause I don't wanna say
I've been hitting that
hard travelin', too

So here's to Joni, and Dave, and Odetta as well
To all the good people who
made heaven from hell
Here's to the words and the songs of the folk
that come like a fire and linger like the smoke

I'm not sure when I'll leave, but it could be today
I know that I'll get out of here in some way
I don't know of the how or the where
or the when
But I do know that the times they are changin'