The first thing you notice about New Orleans are the burying grounds - the cemeteries - and they're a cold proposition, one of the best things there are here. Going by, you try to be as quiet as possible, better to let them sleep. Greek, Roman, sepulchres- palatial mausoleums made to order, phantomesque, signs and symbols of hidden decay - ghosts of women and men who have sinned and who've died and are now living in tombs. The past doesn't pass away so quickly here. You could be dead for a long time

Mama, put my guns in the ground, I can't shoot them anymore. That long black cloud is coming down.

How many roads must a man walk down, Before you call him a man? How many seas must a white dove sail, Before she sleeps in the sand? Yes, and how many times must the cannon balls fly, Before they're forever banned?

You're gonna have to serve somebody; well, it may be the devil, or it may be the Lord, but you're gonna have to serve somebody.

She took off her wheel, took off her bell, took off her wig, said, how do I smell? I hot footed it barenaked out the window.

He not busy being born is busy dying.

Sing your praise of progress and the doom machine, the naked truth is still taboo whenever it can be seen.