I See The Turning Of The Page,

Watch Waterfalls Of Pity Roar, You Feel To Moan But Unlike Before, You Discover That You'd Just Be One More Person Crying.

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.

Up North, You Could Find These Radio Stations With No Name On The Dials That Played Pre-rock 'n' Roll Things - Country Blues. We Would Hear Slim Harpo Or Lightnin' Slim And Gospel Groups, The Dixie Hummingbirds, The Five Blind Boys Of Alabama. I Was So Far North, I Didn't Even Know Where Alabama Was.

Mothers Tell Your Children Not To Do The Things I Have Done, To Spend My Life In Sin And Misery In The House Of The Rising Sun.

I'm Determined To Stand Whether God Will Deliver Me Or Not.