Here's a simple love story, happened to me.
They sat together in the park as the evening sky got dark,
She looked at him, he felt a spark tingle to her bones,
'Twas then she felt alone and wished that she'd gone straight
And watched out for a simple twist of fate.
They walked along by the old canal, little confused – I remember well,
Stopped into a renovated hotel with a neon burning bright,
She felt the heat of the night hit her like a freight
Train, moving with a simple twist of fate.
A saxophone someplace played, she was walking on by the arcade,
She heard the melody rise and fade, the sun was coming up,
She dropped a coin into the cup of a blind man at the gate
And forgot about a simple twist of fate.
He woke up and she was gone, he didn't see nothing but the dawn,
Got out of bed and put his clothes back on, pushed back the blind,
Found a note she'd left behind, but he could not concentrate
On anything 'cept a simple twist of fate.
He hears the ticking of the clocks, walks alone through the city blocks,
Hunts her down by the waterfront docks where the sailors all come in,
Maybe he'll see her once again – how long must he wait
One more time for a simple twist of fate?
People tell me it's a crime to remember her for too long a time,
She should've caught me in my prime, she would've stayed with me
'Stead of going back off to sea and leaving me to meditate,
They call, that simple twist of fate.
Alright, that's straight from Chicago.1
1
This comment actually comes at the beginning of the next track on the album ("All Along the Watchtower"). (After making this comment and before starting "All Along the Watchtower", Dylan remarks, "This is from the Mojave Desert", in contrast.)