The Radio Makes Hideous Sounds.

There's A Whole Lot Of People In Trouble Tonight From The Disease Of Conceit Whole Lot Of People Seeing Double Tonight From The Disease Of Conceit Give Ya Delusions Of Grandeur And A Evil Eye Give You The Idea That You're Too Good To Die Then They Bury You From Your Head To Your Feet From The Disease Of Conceit

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.

In The Dime Stores And Bus Stations
 People Talk Of Situations
 Read Books, Repeat Quotations
 Draw Conclusions On The Wall
 Some Speak Of The Future
 My Love She Speaks Softly
 She Knows There’s No Success Like Failure
 And That Failure’s No Success At All -bob Dylan, “love Minus Zero / No Limit” (1965)

I Never Could Guess Your Weight, Baby.

Peace Will Come With Tranquility And Splendor On The Wheels Of Fire But Will Bring Us No Reward When Her False Idols Fall.