Mama, Put My Guns In The Ground,

They Can't Hurt Me. Sure, They Can Crush You And Kill You. They Can Lay You Out On 42nd And Broadway And Put Hoses On You And Flush You In The Sewers And Put You On The Subway And Carry You Out To Coney Island And Bury You On The Ferris Wheel. But I Refuse To Sit Here And Worry About Dying.

I'd Been Going Though His Trash. He Knocked Me Down. I Was Glad To See Him, Even Though He Was Banging My Head Against The Sidewalk. Afterwards These Bums Come Over And Say, 'did He Get Much Money?' I Say, 'money'? That Was Bob Dylan.

Folk Songs Are Evasive-the Truth About Life, And Life Is More Or Less A Lie, But Then Again That's Exactly The Way We Want It To Be. We Wouldn't Be Comfortable With It Any Other Way. A Folk Song Has Over A Thousand Faces And You Must Meet Them All If You Want To Play This Stuff. A Folk Song Might Vary In Meaning And It Might Not Appear The Same From One Moment To The Next. It Depends On Who's Playing And Who's Listening.

My Big Fear Was That My Guitar Would Go Out Of Tune.

Aretha With No Goals, Eternally Single & One Step Soft Of Heaven/ Let It Be Understood That She Owns This Melody Along With Her Emotional Diplomats & Her Earth & Her Musical Secrets