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.

The truth is far from you, so you know you got to lie. Then you're all the time defending what you can never justify.

Some times I think this whole world Is one big prison yeard Some of us are prisoners The rest of us are guards

"Subterranean Homesick Blues" [of Bob Dylan] captures, in word-salad format, life in an encroaching police state.

There ought to be a law about you coming around.

Everything passes, Everything changes, Just do what you think you should do.

On the stone that remains carved next to his name, his epitaph plain, only a pawn in their game.