May Your Heart Always Be Joyful. May

Sing Your Praise Of Progress And The Doom Machine, The Naked Truth Is Still Taboo Whenever It Can Be Seen.

Just Because You Like My Stuff Doesn't Mean I Owe You Anything.

In This Age Of Fiberglass, I'm Searching For A Gem.

In The Dime Stores And Bus Stations, People Talk Of Situations, Read Books, Repeat Quotations, Draw Conclusions On The Wall.

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.