Let me be known as just the man that told you something you already knew.

The world is filled with people who are no longer needed. And who try to make slaves of all of us. And they have their music and we have ours. Theirs, the wasted songs of a superstitious nightmare. And without their music and ideological miscarriages to compare our songs of freedom to, we'd not have any opposite to compare music with - - and like the drifting wind, hitting against no obstacle, we'd never know its speed, its power.

There's several ways of saying what's on your mind. And in states and counties where it ain't too healthy to talk too loud, speak your mind, or even vote like you want to, folks have found other ways of getting the word around. One of the mainest ways is by singing.

The world is filled with people who are no longer needed -- and who try to make slaves of all of us -- and they have their music and we have ours.

Love is the only medicine I believe in.

If we fix it so's you can't make money on war, we'll all forget what we're killing folks for.

All of you cowboys, fight for your land.