Simon and Garfunkel had dinner one night, then played charades. At least, they tried to play charades. They were terrible at it. The best thing I can say about them is that they were better than Bob Dylan. He couldn’t get the hang of the ‘how many syllables?’ thing at all. He couldn’t do ‘sounds like’ either, come to think of it. One of the best lyricists in the world, the greatest man of letters in the history of rock music, and he can’t seem to tell you whether a word’s got one syllable or two syllables or what it rhymes with! He was so hopeless, I started throwing oranges at him. Or so I was informed the next morning, by a cackling Tony King. That’s not really a phone call you want to receive when you’re struggling with a hangover. ‘Morning, darling - do you remember throwing oranges at Bob Dylan last night?’ Oh God.
Come mothers and fathers Throughout the land And don’t criticize What you can’t understand Your sons and your daughters Are beyond your command Your old road is rapidly agin’ Please get out of the new one If you can’t lend your hand For the times they are a-changin’
- “Ok Boomer” from 1964
People try to put us down Just because we get around Things they do look awful c-cold Hope I die before I get old.
- “OK Boomer” from 1965
And these children that you spit on As they try to change their worlds Are immune to your consultations They’re quite aware of what they’re goin’ through
- “OK Boomer” from 1971
Oh, you’re so condescending Your gall is never ending We don’t want nothin’, not a thing from you
“[My Gemini personality] forces me to extremes. I’m never really balanced in the middle. I go from one side to the other without staying in either place very long. I’m happy, sad, up, down, in, out, up in the sky, and down in the depths of the earth…”
— Bob Dylan, 1976. From Robert Shelton’s No Direction Home