I just put here the text of an old Bob Dylan song for today, because I got so angry & in the moment don't feel that I have words about the people & situation who aroused my anger, -
but I remember, that I heard once in a Bob Dylan documentation & stories told about him by some of his close friends, Joan Baez told that they both once - 'in the early times' tried to check in a hotel together - she was allowed - but they refused Bob Dylan to check in - this must have made him apperently very angry - yes we have all the same kind of feelings if they don't allow us to enter a disco or anything - people who divide people in different kind of classes, of the superior & the inferior - the 'in' & the 'out' people - well it's all racism of some kind
ah yes & then Bob Dylan checked in into another hotel that night & wrote just this song (in the moment I can so much identify with that):
Oh the time will come up
When the winds will stop
And the breeze will cease to be breathin'.
Like the stillness in the wind
'Fore the hurricane begins,
The hour when the ship comes in.
Oh the seas will split
And the ship will hit
And the sands on the shoreline will be shaking.
Then the tide will sound
And the wind will pound
And the morning will be breaking.
Oh the fishes will laugh
As they swim out of the path
And the seagulls they'll be smiling.
And the rocks on the sand
Will proudly stand,
The hour that the ship comes in.
And the words that are used
For to get the ship confused
Will not be understood as they're spoken.
For the chains of the sea
Will have busted in the night
And will be buried at the bottom of the ocean.
A song will lift
As the mainsail shifts
And the boat drifts on to the shoreline.
And the sun will respect
Every face on the deck,
The hour that the ship comes in.
Then the sands will roll
Out a carpet of gold
For your weary toes to be a-touchin'.
And the ship's wise men
Will remind you once again
That the whole wide world is watchin'.
Oh the foes will rise
With the sleep still in their eyes
And they'll jerk from their beds and think they're dreamin'.
But they'll pinch themselves and squeal
And know that it's for real,
The hour when the ship comes in.
Then they'll raise their hands,
Sayin' we'll meet all your demands,
But we'll shout from the bow your days are numbered.
And like Pharaoh's tribe,
They'll be drownded in the tide,
And like Goliath, they'll be conquered.
