Well, It's Always Been My Nature To

The Enemy Is Subtle, How Be It We Are So Deceived, When Truth's In Our Hearts And We Still Don't Believe.

Never Make It Perfect.

Come Writers And Critics Who Prophesize With Your Pen And Keep Your Eyes Wide The Chance Won't Come Again And Don't Speak Too Soon For The Wheel's Still In Spin And There's No Tellin' Who That It's Namin' For The Loser Now Will Be Later To Win For The Times They Are A-changin'.

He Not Busy Being Born Is Busy Dying.

Shakespeare, He's In The Alley With His Pointed Shoes And His Bells, Speaking To Some French Girl Who Says She Knows Me Well.