Won't You Stay We'll Put On The

Bows And Flows Of Angel Hair And Ice Cream Castles In The Air And Feather Canyons Everywhere, I've Looked At Clouds That Way.

Augustine, Anne Sexton And Sylvia Plath Are Confessional Writers And All Three Make Me Sick. I Have Nothing In Common With Them.

Lord, There's Danger In This Land, You Get Witch Hunts And Wars When Church And State Hold Hands.

We Are Stardust, We Are Golden And We've Got To Get Ourselves Back To The Garden.

I Didn't Think I Had Much Of A Following In The South. I Thought I Was Anonymous Down There So I Kept To The South. But I Found In Certain Pockets That I Was Quite Recognizable And I Just Hit A Wig Store.