I'm Mortified To Be On The Stage,

I Consider Myself A Poet First And A Musician Second. I Live Like A Poet And I'll Die Like A Poet.

Truth Is An Arrow And The Gate Is Narrow That It Passes Through.

If Not For You, Winter Wouldn't Hold No Spring, Couldn't Hear A Robin Sing. I Just Wouldn't Have A Clue, If Not For You.

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

Inside The Museum Infinity Goes Up On Trial. Voices Echo, 'this Is What Salvation Must Be Like After A While.' But Mona Lisa Must Have Had The Highway Blues; You Can Tell By The Way She Smiles.