Madonna, she still has not showed, we see this empty cage now corrode, where her cape of the stage once had flowed, the fiddler he now steps to the road, on the back of the fish truck that loads, while my conscience explodes.

Just in time for Bob Dylan to recoil from the attention, leave the city for Woodstock, and turn his back on fame.

There's no liquor in the land that can stop your brain from bleedin

I define nothing. Not beauty, not patriotism. I take each thing as it is, without prior rules about what it should be.

The times they are a-changing.

You had no faith to lose and you know it.

I was so much older then; I'm younger than that now. From the back pages