Uncle Fought In Vietnam And Then He

If My Thought-dreams Could Be Seen/ They'd Probably Put My Head In A Guillotine.

Everyone Of Them Words Rang True And Glowed Like Burning Coal, Pouring Off Every Page Like It Was Written In My Soul From Me To You.

He Not Busy Being Born Is Busy Dying.

We Never Thought We Could Ever Get Old.

Every Step Of The Way We Walk The Line Your Days Are Numbered, So Are Mine Time Is Pilin' Up, We Struggle And We Scrape We're All Boxed In, Nowhere To Escape