| Song | To Ramona |
| Artist | Bob Dylan |
| Album | Bob Dylan Debaser Stockholm [Bootleg] |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Dylan | |
| Ramona | |
| Come closer | |
| Shut softly your watery eyes | |
| The pangs of your sadness | |
| Shall pass as your senses will rise | |
| The flowers of the city | |
| Though breathlike | |
| Get deathlike at times | |
| And there’s no use in tryin’ | |
| T’ deal with the dyin’ | |
| Though I cannot explain that in lines | |
| Your cracked country lips | |
| I still wish to kiss | |
| As to be under the strength of your skin | |
| Your magnetic movements | |
| Still capture the minutes I’m in | |
| But it grieves my heart, love | |
| To see you tryin’ to be a part of | |
| A world that just don’t exist | |
| It’s all just a dream, babe | |
| A vacuum, a scheme, babe | |
| That sucks you into feelin’ like this | |
| I can see that your head | |
| Has been twisted and fed | |
| By worthless foam from the mouth | |
| I can tell you are torn | |
| Between stayin’ and returnin’ | |
| On back to the South | |
| You’ve been fooled into thinking | |
| That the finishin’ end is at hand | |
| Yet there’s no one to beat you | |
| No one t’ defeat you | |
| ’Cept the thoughts of yourself feeling bad | |
| I’ve heard you say many times | |
| That you’re better ’n no one | |
| And no one is better ’n you | |
| If you really believe that | |
| You know you got | |
| Nothing to win and nothing to lose | |
| From fixtures and forces and friends | |
| Your sorrow does stem | |
| That hype you and type you | |
| Making you feel | |
| That you must be exactly like them | |
| I’d forever talk to you | |
| But soon my words | |
| They would turn into a meaningless ring | |
| For deep in my heart | |
| I know there is no help I can bring | |
| Everything passes | |
| Everything changes | |
| Just do what you think you should do | |
| And someday maybe | |
| Who knows, baby | |
| I’ll come and be cryin’ to you |
| zuo ci : Dylan | |
| Ramona | |
| Come closer | |
| Shut softly your watery eyes | |
| The pangs of your sadness | |
| Shall pass as your senses will rise | |
| The flowers of the city | |
| Though breathlike | |
| Get deathlike at times | |
| And there' s no use in tryin' | |
| T' deal with the dyin' | |
| Though I cannot explain that in lines | |
| Your cracked country lips | |
| I still wish to kiss | |
| As to be under the strength of your skin | |
| Your magnetic movements | |
| Still capture the minutes I' m in | |
| But it grieves my heart, love | |
| To see you tryin' to be a part of | |
| A world that just don' t exist | |
| It' s all just a dream, babe | |
| A vacuum, a scheme, babe | |
| That sucks you into feelin' like this | |
| I can see that your head | |
| Has been twisted and fed | |
| By worthless foam from the mouth | |
| I can tell you are torn | |
| Between stayin' and returnin' | |
| On back to the South | |
| You' ve been fooled into thinking | |
| That the finishin' end is at hand | |
| Yet there' s no one to beat you | |
| No one t' defeat you | |
| ' Cept the thoughts of yourself feeling bad | |
| I' ve heard you say many times | |
| That you' re better ' n no one | |
| And no one is better ' n you | |
| If you really believe that | |
| You know you got | |
| Nothing to win and nothing to lose | |
| From fixtures and forces and friends | |
| Your sorrow does stem | |
| That hype you and type you | |
| Making you feel | |
| That you must be exactly like them | |
| I' d forever talk to you | |
| But soon my words | |
| They would turn into a meaningless ring | |
| For deep in my heart | |
| I know there is no help I can bring | |
| Everything passes | |
| Everything changes | |
| Just do what you think you should do | |
| And someday maybe | |
| Who knows, baby | |
| I' ll come and be cryin' to you |
| zuò cí : Dylan | |
| Ramona | |
| Come closer | |
| Shut softly your watery eyes | |
| The pangs of your sadness | |
| Shall pass as your senses will rise | |
| The flowers of the city | |
| Though breathlike | |
| Get deathlike at times | |
| And there' s no use in tryin' | |
| T' deal with the dyin' | |
| Though I cannot explain that in lines | |
| Your cracked country lips | |
| I still wish to kiss | |
| As to be under the strength of your skin | |
| Your magnetic movements | |
| Still capture the minutes I' m in | |
| But it grieves my heart, love | |
| To see you tryin' to be a part of | |
| A world that just don' t exist | |
| It' s all just a dream, babe | |
| A vacuum, a scheme, babe | |
| That sucks you into feelin' like this | |
| I can see that your head | |
| Has been twisted and fed | |
| By worthless foam from the mouth | |
| I can tell you are torn | |
| Between stayin' and returnin' | |
| On back to the South | |
| You' ve been fooled into thinking | |
| That the finishin' end is at hand | |
| Yet there' s no one to beat you | |
| No one t' defeat you | |
| ' Cept the thoughts of yourself feeling bad | |
| I' ve heard you say many times | |
| That you' re better ' n no one | |
| And no one is better ' n you | |
| If you really believe that | |
| You know you got | |
| Nothing to win and nothing to lose | |
| From fixtures and forces and friends | |
| Your sorrow does stem | |
| That hype you and type you | |
| Making you feel | |
| That you must be exactly like them | |
| I' d forever talk to you | |
| But soon my words | |
| They would turn into a meaningless ring | |
| For deep in my heart | |
| I know there is no help I can bring | |
| Everything passes | |
| Everything changes | |
| Just do what you think you should do | |
| And someday maybe | |
| Who knows, baby | |
| I' ll come and be cryin' to you |