by Marty Finkelstein
I was 22 walking in Greenwich village
On a hot summer eve
And there i saw walking on toward me
I tell you it was so hard to believe
Wearing a leather jacket carrying his guitar case
He held it close down to his side
And as he silently walked by me
I couldn't help myself but to reply
Hey Bob Dylan where you going tonight
Can i hang with you i'll stay out of sight
I'll carry your guitar to lighten your load
If i can go wherever you go
He said stop your talking
As he handed me his axe
I could feel the times were changin
As he looked through me and said just relax
We came upon an Italian bakery
Cappachino and pastries filled the air
Standing there was a fortune tellin gypsy
As we walked up a flight of stairs
That was the night that i met Dylan
What is real and what's a dream
Does it really even matter
Nothing is ever quite what it seems
Walked through a door where music was playing
John Lennon was imagining the human race
George Harrison was chanting Hare Krishna
While Andy Warhol was painting Mick Jagger's face
Well Alan Ginsberg was reciting Howl
Judy Collins and Leonard Cohn sang Suzanne
Joni Mitchell was painting a poem on the wall
While Donavan was singing Sunshine Superman
Well Timothy Leary was handing out LSD
Paul McCartney sweetly sang Yesterday
Simon and Garfunkel grooved in at 3 a.m
As Richie Haven was singing his version of Lay Lady Lay
Well the night it turned into morning
Dylan was singing everyone his new song
About his separation with his wife Sara
That went on and on but never seem to long
That was the night that i met Dylan
And what is real and what's a dream
Does it really even matter
Nothing is ever what it seems

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