One Day We'll All Find Out That

The Note Of Hope Is The Only Note That Can Help Us Or Save Us From Falling To The Bottom Of The Heap Of Evolution, Because, Largely, About All A Human Being Is, Anyway, Is Just A Hoping Machine.

Some Men Rob You With A Six-gun -- Others Rob You With A Fountain Pen.

I Worked In Your Orchards Of Peaches And Prunes. I Slept On The Ground In The Light Of The Moon. On The Edge Of The City You'll See Us And Then, We Come With The Dust And We Go With The Wind.

I Love A Good Man Outside The Law, Just As Much As I Hate A Bad Man Inside The Law.

The World Is Filled With People Who Are No Longer Needed. And Who Try To Make Slaves Of All Of Us. And They Have Their Music And We Have Ours. Theirs, The Wasted Songs Of A Superstitious Nightmare. And Without Their Music And Ideological Miscarriages To Compare Our Songs Of Freedom To, We'd Not Have Any Opposite To Compare Music With - - And Like The Drifting Wind, Hitting Against No Obstacle, We'd Never Know Its Speed, Its Power.