The Walls Of Pride Are High And

Mama's In The Factory, She Ain't Got No Shoes. Daddy's In The Alley, He's Looking For Food.

People Are Going To Say, ‘well, It’s Not Very Truthful.’ But A Songwriter Doesn’t Care About What’s Truthful. What He Cares About Is What Should’ve Happened, What Could’ve Happened. That’s Its Own Kind Of Truth. It’s Like People Who Read Shakespeare Plays, But They Never See A Shakespeare Play. I Think They Just Use His Name.

Everything In New Orleans Is A Good Idea. Bijou Temple-type Cottages And Lyric Cathedrals Side By Side. Houses And Mansions, Structures Of Wild Grace. Italianate, Gothic, Romanesque, Greek Revival Standing In A Long Line In The Rain. Roman Catholic Art. Sweeping Front Porches, Turrets, Cast-iron Balconies, Colonnades- 30-foot Columns, Gloriously Beautiful- Double Pitched Roofs, All The Architecture Of The Whole Wide World And It Doesn't Move.

I've Never Been Able To Understand The Seriousness Of It All, The Seriousness Of Pride. People Talk, Act, Live As If They're Never Going To Die. And What Do They Leave Behind? Nothing. Nothing But A Mask.

I'm Gonna Spare The Defeated. I'm Gonna Tame The Proud.