The real power is in the hands of small groups of people and I don't think they have titles.

The world of research has gone berserk. Too much paper work.

Gates appeal to me because of the negative space they allow. They can be closed but at the same time they allow the seasons and breezes to enter and flow. They can shut you out or shut you in. And in some ways there is no difference.

They're selling postcards of the hanging They're painting the passports brown The beauty parlor is filled with sailors The circus is in town Here comes the blind commissioner They've got him in a trance One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker The other is in his pants And the riot squad they're restless They need somewhere to go As Lady and I look out tonight From Desolation Row.

Sold my guitar to the baker's son for a few crumbs and a place to hide.

Suddenly I found you and the spirit in me sings, Don't have to look no further, You're the soul of many things.

Sometimes the silence can be like thunder.