Money And Art Are Far Apart.

The Depression Brought Everybody Down A Peg Or Two. And The Negroes Had But Few Pegs To Fall.

Money And Art Are Far Apart.

The Rain Plays A Little Sleep Song On Our Roof At Night And I Love The Rain.

Like A Welcome Summer Rain, Humor May Suddenly Cleanse And Cool The Earth, The Air And You.

We Build Our Temples For Tomorrow, Strong As We Know How, And We Stand On Top Of The Mountain, Free Within Ourselves.