Shadows are falling and I've been here all day/It's too hot to sleep, time is running away/Feel like my soul has turned into steel/I've still got the scars that the sun didn't heal.

I'm sick of giving creeps money off my soul.

Each one of them suffering from the failures of their day, with strings of guilt they tried hard to guide us.

Rumble is the best instrumental ever.

He's hell bent for destruction, he's afraid and confused, and his brain has been mismanaged with great skill.

Every brain is civilized, Every nerve is analyzed, Everything is criticized when you are in need.

Popular music had never had lyrical sophistication of this type [like Bob Dylan]; wit, to be sure, but "Darkness at the break of noon/Shadows even the silver spoon/The handmade blade, the child's balloon/Eclipses both the sun and moon/To understand you know too soon/ There is no sense in trying"? No.