Someone Handed Me Mexico City Blues In

How Many Roads Must A Man Walk Down Before Your Can Call Him A Man? . . . The Answer, My Friend, Is Blowin' In The Wind, The Answer Is Blowin' In The Wind.

They're Selling Postcards Of The Hanging.

It's Like Going Out To The Desert And Screaming And Then Having Little Kids Throw Their Sandbox At You. I'm Only 24.

Walkin' Through The Leaves Fallin' From The Trees, Feelin' Like A Stranger Nobody Sees.

Everything From Toy Guns That Spark To Flesh-colored Christs That Glow In The Dark It's Easy To See Without Looking Too Far That Not Much Is Really Sacred.