For What Is A Man, What Has

Critics Don't Bother Me Because If I Do Badly, I Know I'm Bad Before They Even Write It. And If I'm Good, I Know I'm Good. I Know Best About Myself, So A Critic Doesn't Anger Me.

Rock 'n Roll Smells Phony And False. It Is Sung, Played And Written For The Most Part By Cretinous Goons And By Means Of Its Almost Imbecilic Reiteration And Sly, Lewd, In Plain Fact, Dirty Lyrics ... Manages To Be The Martial Music Of Every Side-burned Delinquent On The Face Of The Earth.

I Want To Be Buried With A Zippo, A Roll Of Dimes & A Bottle Of Jack!

Way Down Among Brazilians. Coffee Beans Grow By The Billions. So They've Got To Find Those Extra Cups To Fill. They've Got An Awful Lot Of Coffee In Brazil

For What Is A Man, What Has He Got. If Not Himself, Then He Has Naught.