I Have Dined With Kings, I've Been

The Rifleman's Stalking The Sick And The Lame, Preacherman Seeks The Same, Who'll Get There First Is Uncertain.

Folk Music Is A Bunch Of Fat People.

Someone Handed Me Mexico City Blues In St. Paul [minnesota] In 1959 And It Blew My Mind. It Was The First Poetry That Spoke My Own Language.

Every Day Is The Same Thing Out The Door Feel Further Away Then Ever Before Some Things In Life, It Gets Too Late To Learn Well, I'm Lost Somewhere I Must Have Made A Few Bad Turns

The Cards Are No Good That Your Are Holding Unless You're From Another World.