I was sitting home alone one night
In LA, watching old Cronkite on the seven o’clock news.
Seems there was an earthquake that left nothing but a Panama hat
And a pair of old Greek shoes.
It didn’t seem like much was happening,
So I turned it off and went and got another beer.
Seems like every time you turn around
There’s another hard luck story that you gotta hear.
And there’s really nothing anyone can say.
And I never did plan to go anyway, to Black Diamond Bay.
My favorite Dylan song.
They don’t write them like that anymore.