Bent Out Of Shape From Society's Pliers,

I Don't Know If I Call Myself A Poet Or Not. I Would Like To, But I'm Not Really Qualified To Make That Decision, Because I Come In On Such A Back Door, That I Don't Know What A Robert Frost Or A [john] Keats Or A T.s. Eliot Would Really Think Of My Stuff.

After Becoming Famous Once Again - A 1976 Song, "hurricane," Even Marked A Return To Protest Songwriting - [bob] Dylan Got Addicted To Drugs, Found Jesus, Left Jesus, And Put Out A Lot Of Swill.

God Bless Them Pretty Women, I Wish They Was Mine, Their Breath Is As Sweet, The Dew On The Vine.

When You Asked Me How I Was Doing, Was That Some Kind Of Joke

For The Loser Now Will Be Later To Win