As He Weeps To Wicked Birds Of

My Father Probably Thought The Capital Of The World Was Wherever He Was At The Time. It Couldn't Possibly Be Anyplace Else. Where He And His Wife Were In Their Own Home, That, For Them, Was The Capital Of The World.

The Sun's Not Yellow, Its Chicken!

A Lot Of People Don't Like The Road, But It's As Natural To Me As Breathing.

Oh, The Inmates And The Prisoners I Found They Were My Kind And It Was There Inside The Bars I Found My Peace Of Mind But The Jails They Were Too Crowded Institutions Overflowed So They Turned Me Loose To Walk Upon Life's Hurried Tangled Road

There Ought To Be A Law About You Coming Around.