I'm Blessed With A Pretty Good Voice.

If Dirt Were Dollars, I Wouldn't Have To Worry Anymore.

Nobody On The Road. Nobody On The Beach. I Feel It In The Air, The Summer's Out Of Reach.

We're Being Treated To The Wisdom Of Some Puffed Up, Little Fart. Doing Exactly What I Used To Do, Pretensions To Anarchy And Art.

The Trouble With You And Me My Friend, Is The Trouble With This Nation, Too Many Blessings, Too Little Appreciation.

It Was A Pretty Good Year For Predators.