I looked on Hibbing
   hillsides
Blacktop mountains
   rusting on the range
      in iron rolling smokestacks
And harsh industrial rains

I see
People peeping
   nosy minds
Closed perspectives
   daily grinds

Money coughed up from the
   grimy pits with
Loyal citizens
Moving sacred patriotic
   lips
      with quips on
         praising
Good ol' days
And rusty slime

"These kids don't appreciate
The stuff of workin' hard
And workin' late"
Then Dylan came
With all that noise
And all that trash
And taught a nation
How to crash
   and how to bend
And how see 
   the blowing wind

(c) 1996 James Oliver Smith, Jr