Although The Masters Make The Rules For

"subterranean Homesick Blues" [of Bob Dylan] Captures, In Word-salad Format, Life In An Encroaching Police State.

Disillusioned Words Like Bullets Bark As Human Gods Aim For Their Mark.

How Many Times Must A Man Look Up Before He Can See The Sky? Yes, 'n' How Many Ears Must One Man Have Before He Can Hear People Cry? Yes, 'n' How Many Deaths Will It Take Till He Knows That Too Many People Have Died? The Answer, My Friend, Is Blowin' In The Wind, The Answer Is Blowin' In The Wind.

Everything In New Orleans Is A Good Idea.

Some Of The Old Folk Singers Used To Phrase Things In An Interesting Way, And Then, I Got My Style From Seeing A Lot Of Outdoor-type Poets, Who Would Recite Their Poetry. When You Don't Have A Guitar, You Recite Things Differently, And There Used To Be Quite A Few Poets In The Jazz Clubs, Who Would Recite With A Different Type Of Attitude.