The Only Sound That's Left After The

It Is The First Line That Gives The Inspiration And Then It's Like Riding A Bull. Either You Just Stick With It, Or You Don't.

Opportunities May Come Along For You To Convert Something -something That Exists Into Something That Didn't Yet. That Might Be The Beginning Of It. Sometimes You Just Want To Do Things Your Way, Want To See For Yourself What Lies Behind The Misty Curtain. It's Not Like You See Songs Approaching And Invite Them In. It's Not That Easy. You Want To Write Songs That Are Bigger Than Life. You Want To Say Something About Strange Things That Have Happened To You, Strange Things You Have Seen. You Have To Know And Understand Something And Then Go Past The Vernacular.

We Never Thought We Could Ever Get Old.

Come Senators, Congressmen, Please Heed The Call, Don't Stand In The Doorway, Don't Block Up The Hall, For He That Gets Hurt, Will Be He Who Has Stalled, The Battle Outside Ragin', Will Soon Shake Your Windows And Rattle Your Walls, For The Times They Are A-changin'...

She Took Off Her Wheel, Took Off Her Bell, Took Off Her Wig, Said, How Do I Smell? I Hot Footed It Barenaked Out The Window.