Series Of Dreams
Words:Bob Dylan
Music:Bob Dylan
Performed By:  Bob Dylan
Copyright:© 1991 Special Rider Music
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I was thinking of a series of dreams
Where nothing comes up to the top.
Everything stays down where it's wounded
And comes to a permanent stop.
Wasn't thinking of anything specific,
Like in a dream, when someone wakes up and screams.
Nothing truly very scientific,
Just thinking of a series of dreams.

Thinking of a series of dreams
Where the time and the tempo drag,
And there's no exit in any direction
'Cept the one that you can't see with your eyes.
Wasn't making any great connections,
Wasn't falling for any intricate schemes.
Nothing that would pass inspection,
Just thinking of a series of dreams.

Dreams where the umbrella is folded,
And into the path you are hurled,
And the cards are no good that you're holding
Unless they're from another world.

In one, the surface was frozen.
In another, I witnessed a crime.
In one, I was running, and in another
All I seemed to be doing was crying.
Wasn't looking for any special assistance,
Not going to any great extremes.
I'd already gone the distance,
Just thinking of a series of dreams.

Dreams where the umbrella is folded,
And into the path you are hurled,
And the cards are no good that you're holding
Unless they're from another world.

I'd already gone the distance,
Just thinking of a series of dreams.
Just thinking of a series of dreams.
Just thinking of a series of dreams.
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