You Been Down To The Bottom With

My Big Fear Was That My Guitar Would Go Out Of Tune.

I Saw Ten Thousand Talkers Whose Tongues Were All Broken, I Saw Guns And Sharp Swords In The Hands Of Young Children, And It's A Hard, It's A Hard, It's A Hard, It's A Hard, It's A Hard Rain's A-gonna Fall.

Who Am I Helping, What Am I Breaking, What Am I Giving, What Am I Taking?

A Song Is Anything That Can Walk By Itself.

I Was Lingering Out On The Pavement. There Was A Missing Person Inside Of Myself And I Needed To Find Him . . . I Felt Done For, An Empty Burned-out Wreck . . . Wherever I Am, I'm A '60s Troubadour, A Folk-rock Relic, A Wordsmith From Bygone Days, A Fictitious Head Of State From A Place Nobody Knows.