Left Wing. Right Wing. Chicken Wing.

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.

It's A Folk Singer's Job To Comfort Disturbed People And To Disturb Comfortable People

As I Went Walking That Ribbon Of Highway I Saw Above Me The Endless Skyway I Saw Below Me The Lonesome Valley This Land Was Made For You And Me.

Any Fool Can Make Something Complicated. It Takes A Genius To Make It Simple.

One Bright Sunny Morning In The Shadow Of The Steeple, By The Relief Office, I Saw My People - As They Stood Hungry, I Stood There Wondering If God Blessed America For Me.