I Just Try To Understand That Tomorrow

You Don't Need A Weatherman To Know Which Way The Wind Blows.

I Think A Poet Is Anybody Who Wouldn't Call Himself A Poet.

How Can The Life Of Such A Man Be In The Palm Of Some Fools Hand?

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

Everyone Of Them Words Rang True And Glowed Like Burning Coal, Pouring Off Every Page Like It Was Written In My Soul From Me To You.