Each One Of Them Suffering From The

We All Like Motorcycles To Some Degree.

As I Stepped To The Stage To Pick Up My Degree, And The Locusts Sang Off In The Distance.

I Was Lingering Out On The Pavement. There Was A Missing Person Inside Of Myself And I Needed To Find Him . . . I Felt Done For, An Empty Burned-out Wreck . . . Wherever I Am, I'm A '60s Troubadour, A Folk-rock Relic, A Wordsmith From Bygone Days, A Fictitious Head Of State From A Place Nobody Knows.

Every Cause That Ever I Fought, I Fought It Full Without Regret Or Shame.

In Harmony With Cosmic Sea, True Love Needs No Company. It Can Cure The Soul, It Can Make It Whole, If Dogs Run Free.