Whatever Colors You Have In Your Mind,

Dead Man, Dead Man When Will You Arise? Cobwebs In Your Mind Dust Upon Your Eyes

I Am Hanging In The Balance Of A Perfect Finished Plan, Like Every Sparrow Falling, Like Every Grain Of Sand.

There's Enough Songs For People To Listen To, If They Want To Listen To Songs. For Every Man, Woman And Child On Earth, They Could Be Sent, Probaby, Each Of Them, A Hundred Records, And Never Be Repeated. There's Enough Songs. Unless Someone's Gonna Come Along With A Pure Heart And Has Something To Say. That's A Different Story.

Shakespeare's Last Play Was Called The Tempest. It Wasn't Called Just Plain Tempest. The Name Of My Record Is Just Plain Tempest. It's Two Different Titles.

People Today Are Still Living Off The Table Scraps Of The Sixties. They Are Still Being Passed Around - The Music And The Ideas.