"Streetcar visions"

So I'm standing against a door on the #6 train, and around 28th St., after "Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands" had just finished blasting, evidently, out of my ears, the kid standing next to me -- barely old enough to shave -- nudges me with his elbow and asks, "Live 1966?" I smile, and reply, "No, but close. Blonde on Blonde."

Da yout a today, there may be hope for em afterall.