Well, I Sing By Night, Wander By

Some Of The Old Folk Singers Used To Phrase Things In An Interesting Way, And Then, I Got My Style From Seeing A Lot Of Outdoor-type Poets, Who Would Recite Their Poetry. When You Don't Have A Guitar, You Recite Things Differently, And There Used To Be Quite A Few Poets In The Jazz Clubs, Who Would Recite With A Different Type Of Attitude.

God Bless Them Pretty Women, I Wish They Was Mine, Their Breath Is As Sweet, The Dew On The Vine.

How Many Times Can A Man Turn His Head, And Pretend That He Just Doesn't See?

Nothing Can Affect My Voice, It's So Bad.

How Does It Feel, How Does It Feel To Be Without A Home, Like A Complete Unknown, Like A Rolling Stone.