Colleges are like old-age homes, except for the fact that more people die in colleges.

Your mind is a your temple, keep it beautiful and free. Don't let an egg get laid in it by something you can't see.

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

Can't keep track of it no more, son's becoming husbands to their mothers, and old men turning your daughters into whores.

I had ambitions to set out and find, like an odyssey or going home somewhere, set out to find this home that I'd left a while back and couldn't remember exactly where it was, but I was on my way there. And encountering what I encountered on the way was how I envisioned it all. I didn't really have any ambition at all. I was born very far from where I'm supposed to be, and so, I'm on my way home, you know?

You're gonna have to serve somebody.

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.