Come gather round bozos where ever you roam,
And admit that the desert around you has grown,
And soon you'll be dry as a bone,
If your time to you is worth losing,
Stay away from the quicksand or you'll sink like a stone,
For the times they ain't a changing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonder what Bob Dylan would think of this