I'm speaking for all of us. I'm the spokesman for a generation.

Since my feet are now fast and point away from the past, I'll bid farewell and be down the line.

Early on, before rock 'n' roll, I listened to big band music - anything that came over the radio - and music played by bands in hotels that our parents could dance to. We had a big radio that looked like a jukebox, with a record player on the top. The radio/record player played 78rpm records. When we moved to that house, there was a record on there, with a red label. It was Bill Monroe, or maybe it was the Stanley Brothers. I'd never heard anything like that before. Ever. And it moved me away from all the conventional music that I was hearing.

Lay down the song you strum, And rest yourself 'neath the strength of strings No voice can hope to hum.

The rifleman's stalking the sick and the lame, preacherman seeks the same, who'll get there first is uncertain.

I hate myself for loving you and the weakness that it showed. You were just a painted face on a trip down to suicide road.

Music attracts the angels in the universe.