May You Build A Ladder To The

I'm Inconsistent, Even To Myself.

Mama, Put My Guns In The Ground, I Can't Shoot Them Anymore. That Long Black Cloud Is Coming Down.

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

Let The Dead Bury The Dead, Your Time Will Come.

It Will Scramble Your Head And Drag Your Brain About, Sometimes You Gotta Do Like Elvis Did And Shoot The Damn Thing Out.