Bent Out Of Shape From Society's Pliers,

You Don't Write A Song To Sit There On A Page. You Write It To Sing It.

Nothing Can Affect My Voice, It's So Bad.

Despite Everybody Who Has Been Born And Has Died, The World Has Just Gone On. I Mean, Look At Napoleon -but We Went Right On. Look At Harpo Marx -the World Went Around, It Didn't Stop For A Second. It's Sad But True. John Kennedy, Right?

I've Never Gone For Having A Great Voice, For Cultivating One. I'm Still Not Doing It Now.

The Walls Of Pride Are High And Wide, Can't See Over To The Other Side.