Music Quiz / Paul Simon or Bob Dylan?

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Can you pick which lyrics were written by Bob Dylan and which were written by Paul Simon?

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And she aches just like a woman but she breaks just like a little girl
How many roads must a man walk down before you call him a man?
You say you're lookin' for someone who's never weak but always strong, to protect you and defend you whether you are right or wrong
I’d rather be a hammer than a nail
They’ll stone ya when you’re at the breakfast table, they’ll stone ya when you are young and able
Every day's an endless stream of cigarettes and magazines
Asking only workman’s wages I come looking for a job, but I get no offers, just a come-on from the **** on 7th Avenue
Who’ll be my role model now that my role model is gone, gone? He ducked back down the alley with some roly-poly little bat-faced girl
I met my old lover on the street last night, she seemed so glad to see me, I just smiled
Hello lamppost, what’cha knowin? I’ve come to watch your flowers growin
You see me on the street, you always act surprised, you say, 'How are you?' 'Good luck,' but you don't mean it
When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school, it’s a wonder I can think at all
Take me on a trip upon your magic swirlin' ship
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form, “Come in,” she said, “I’ll give you ...
And she says, “Your debutante just knows what you need, but I know what you want”
And the people bowed and prayed to the neon god they'd made
And a rock feels no pain, and an island never cries
There must be some way out of here, said the joker to the thief
The mama pajama rolled out of bed and she ran to the police station
May God bless and keep you always, may your wishes all come true, may you always do for others, and let others do for you
Where have you gone Joe DiMaggio, our nation turns its lonely eyes to you
When you’re weary, feeling small, when tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all
The wounded man looks up through his one dyin’ eye, says “Wha’d you bring him in here for? He ain’t the guy”
Come mothers and fathers throughout the land, and don't criticize what you can't understand
Then she opened up a book of poems and handed it to me, written by an Italian poet from the 13th century
She said the man in the gabardine suit was a spy, I said, “Be careful his bowtie is really a camera”
You used to be so amused at Napoleon in rags and the language that he used
The guilty undertaker sighs, the lonesome organ grinder cries, the silver saxophones say I should refuse you
There was a bright light, a shattering of shop windows, the bomb in the baby carriage was wired to the radio
She said, “It’s really not my habit to intrude, furthermore I hope my meaning won’t be lost or misconstrued”

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