Let me drink from the waters where the mountain streams flood Let the smell of wildflowers flow free through my blood Let me sleep in your meadows with the green grassy leaves Let me walk down the highway with my brother in peace Let me die in my footsteps Before I go down under the ground.

Well the Lone Ranger and Tonto, they are riding down the line fixing everybody's troubles, everybody except mine.

Doesn't expecting the unexpected make the unexpected expected?

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.

May you build a ladder to the stars and climb on every rung. May you stay forever young.

She can play my guitar note for note, she likes to stick her tongue down my throat.

The woman I love she got a prize fighter nose, cauliflower ears and a run in her hose.