It's Mighty Funny. The End Of Time

I Was Burned Out From Exhaustion, Buried In The Hail, Poisoned In The Bushes, Blown Out On The Trail; Hunted Like A Crocodile, Ravaged In The Corn, "come In," She Said, "i'll Give Ya Shelter From The Storm."

I'm Used To Writing Songs And Songs-i Can Fill Em Up With Symbolism And Metaphors. When You Write A Book (chronicles, Vol. 1), You Gotta Tell The Truth, And It Can't Be Misinterpreted.

The Battle Outside Raging Will Soon Shake Your Windows And Rattle Your Walls.

Popular Music Had Never Had Lyrical Sophistication Of This Type [like Bob Dylan]; Wit, To Be Sure, But "darkness At The Break Of Noon/shadows Even The Silver Spoon/the Handmade Blade, The Child's Balloon/eclipses Both The Sun And Moon/to Understand You Know Too Soon/ There Is No Sense In Trying"? No.

Witchcraft Scum Exploiting The Dumb Turning Children Into Punks And Slaves.