I ain’t gonna work on Dubya’s Farm no more

I was raised on Bob Dylan by my parents. Oh my parent’s played other music and I had my share of childhood albums: 6th Grade, Quiet Riot! “Bang Your Head!“; Freshmen Highschool, Rush! “Todays tom sawyer
Mean mean pride.”

However, Dylan’s music was a common theme in our household and his lyrics still keep coming back and haunting my brain time and time again. Even during my rivethead punk as fuck “Thieves, thieves and liars, murderers. Hypocrites and bastards!“years I still admitted to liking Bob Dylan and listened to him. Thus, the news today that Bob Dylan endorses Barack Obama made me smile.

It’s all the more interesting since while I’ve been an Barack Obama supporter for most this primary season, my parents and sister have stood with Hillary Clinton. Unlike the rest of the electorate, this never lead to any squabbles, but it certainly exhibited itself as a microcosm of the larger divide in the Democratic party: that gray female liberal voting block, you know the ones who struggled all their lives against glass ceilings and being ignored by the old boys club? Well that’s pretty much my Mom. And that college educated liberal generation X voting block, you know the ones with San Francisco values who are really hoping that one day the Green Party will be more then a sideshow? Well that’s pretty much me.

So now that I got all that exposition* out of the way, I thought I’d share the results of a back and forth Bob Dylan lyric exchange I had with my Parents today.

Dubya’s Farm

I ain’t gonna pay for Bush’s war no more
No, I aint gonna pay for Bush’s war no more
Well, I wake up in the morning
Fold my hands and pray for rain
I got a bucket full of bills
That are drivin’ me insane
The only job left is to scrub Wal-Mart’s floor
I ain’t gonna pay for Bush’s war no more.

I ain’t gonna fall for Bush’s bullshit no more.
No, I ain’t gonna fall for Bush’s bullshit no more.
Well, he hands you a nickel,
He hands you a dime,
He asks you with a grin
If you’re havin’ a good time,
Then he takes all your cash to fund the war.
I ain’t gonna fall for Bush’s bullshit no more.

I ain’t gonna deal with Cheney’s lies no more.
No, I ain’t gonna deal with Cheney’s lies no more.
Well, he puts his shotgun
Out in your face just for kicks.
His bunker window
It is made out of bricks.
And Blackwater Ops stand around his door.
Ah, I ain’t gonna deal with Cheney’s lies no more.

I ain’t gonna believe McCain’s talk no more.
No, I ain’t gonna believe McCain’s talk no more.
Well, he talks to all the people
About his straight talk express.
Everybody says
He’s not like Mr Bush.
But his policies are the same on every score.
I ain’t gonna believe McCain’s talk no more.

I ain’t gonna work on Dubya’s Farm no more.
No, I ain’t gonna work on Dubya’s Farm no more.
Well, I try my best
To be just like I am,
But everybody wants you
To be just like them.
They sing while you slave and I just get bored.
I ain’t gonna work on Dubya’s Farm no more.

*I know that was quite a bit of exposition, but now you get an inkling of why I might cherish this little song cover collaboration.