Rest Is Not A Word Of Free

We Live In The Time Of The Colossal Upright Oblong.

I See America, Not In The Setting Sun Of A Black Night Of Despair Ahead Of Us, I See America In The Crimson Light Of A Rising Sun Fresh From The Burning, Creative Hand Of God. I See Great Days Ahead, Great Days Possible To Men And Women Of Will And Vision.

Come On, You Do You Want To Live Forever?

Drum On Your Drums, Batter On Your Banjos, Sob On The Long Cool Winding Saxophones. Go To It, O Jazzmen.

I Want To Do The Right Thing, But Often I Don't Know Just What The Right Thing Is. Every Day I Know I Have Come Short Of What I Would Like To Have Done. Yet As The Years Pass And I See The Very World Itself, With Its Oceans And Mountains And Plains, As Something Unfinished, A Peculiar Little Satisfaction Hunts Out The Corners Of My Heart. Sunsets And Evening Shadows Find Me Regretful At Task's Undone, But Sleep And The Dawn And The Air Of The Morning Touch Me With Freshening Hopes. Strange Things Blow In Through My Window On The Wings Of The Night Wind And I Don't Worry About My Destiny.