I Think Of A Hero As Someone

We Have Never Arrived. We Are In A Constant State Of Becoming.

She Never Stumbles, She's Got No Place To Fall. She's Nobody's Child, The Law Can't Touch Her At All.

Jewels And Binoculars Hang From The Head Of The Mule.

"subterranean Homesick Blues" [of Bob Dylan] Captures, In Word-salad Format, Life In An Encroaching Police State.

So I Cut Off My Hair And I Rode Straight Away, To The Wild Unknown Country Where I Could Not Go Wrong.