Your Old Road Is Rapidly Aging. Please

Come You Masters Of War You That Build All The Guns You That Build The Death Planes You That Build The Big Bombs You That Hide Behind Walls You That Hide Behind Desks I Just Want You To Know I Can See Through Your Masks.

I Was Lingering Out On The Pavement. There Was A Missing Person Inside Of Myself And I Needed To Find Him . . . I Felt Done For, An Empty Burned-out Wreck . . . Wherever I Am, I'm A '60s Troubadour, A Folk-rock Relic, A Wordsmith From Bygone Days, A Fictitious Head Of State From A Place Nobody Knows.

Sometimes I Wonder What It's Gonna Take To Find Dignity.

I Don't Really Have A Retirement Plan.

There's No Liquor In The Land That Can Stop Your Brain From Bleedin