Imagine, you wake up in the morning - at your girlfriend's - and "there's frogs inside your socks!" Frogs! No *snakes inside your pants* (too Freudian, too scary, dangerous) no *spiders in your shoes* (too boring for a poem because that happens all the time) but *frogs inside your socks!*
Dylan finds the perfect match of poetic image (cute little frogs), surrealism and creepy, crawly, slimy. Don't get me wrong, frogs are nice, I like them and the sounds the are making, - reminds me of early Santana recordings. But I definitely do not want frogs in my socks.
Image you put on your socks and shoes without noticing the frogs, - the'll be knocking on heaven's door. On a phonetic level the *frogs* inside the *socks* (nice rhyme, dirty enough to be good) lead Dylan to the second line which is on a completely different level of absurdity: *You'r mama, she's hiding inside the ice box*. No we know, something is really wrong at his girlfriend's.
*Then you ask why I don’t live here
Honey, do you have to ask?*
Bob Dylan, On the Road Again
Bringing t all back Home (1965)
Dylan finds the perfect match of poetic image (cute little frogs), surrealism and creepy, crawly, slimy. Don't get me wrong, frogs are nice, I like them and the sounds the are making, - reminds me of early Santana recordings. But I definitely do not want frogs in my socks.
Image you put on your socks and shoes without noticing the frogs, - the'll be knocking on heaven's door. On a phonetic level the *frogs* inside the *socks* (nice rhyme, dirty enough to be good) lead Dylan to the second line which is on a completely different level of absurdity: *You'r mama, she's hiding inside the ice box*. No we know, something is really wrong at his girlfriend's.
*Then you ask why I don’t live here
Honey, do you have to ask?*
Bob Dylan, On the Road Again
Bringing t all back Home (1965)
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