When I was growing up - say in the fifties - the thirties to me didn't even exist. I couldn't even imagine them in any kind of way, so I don't expect anyone growing up now is gonna even understand what the sixties were all about, anymore than I could the thirties or twenties.

All that foreign oil controlling American soil.

You had no faith to lose and you know it.

He did ten years in Attica, reading Nietzsche and Wilhelm Reich.

I'm ready to go anywhere, I'm ready for to fade, into my own parade, cast your dancing spell my way.

Bent out of shape from society's pliers, cares not to come up any higher, but rather get you down in the hole that he's in.

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.