Then she opened up a book of poems
And handed it to me
Written by an Italian poet
From the thirteenth century
...
The only thing I knew how to do
Was to keep on keepin' on like a bird that flew
Tangled up in blue.
...
But me, I'm still on the road
Headin' for another joint
We always did feel the same
We just saw it from a different point of view
Tangled up in blue.
(Bob Dylan, from "Tangled Up in Blue")
"The Old Guitarist," by Pablo Picasso:
