Who Am I To Blow Against The

I Am Just A Poor Boy, Though My Story's Seldom Told, And I Have Squandered My Resistance, For A Pocket Full Of Mumbles, Such Are Promises. All Lies In Jest, Still A Man Hears What He Wants To Hear And Disregards The Rest...la-la-la-la-la-la-la-lala-la-la-la-la...

Some People Never Say The Words ‘i Love You’, For Like A Child They’re Longing To Be Told.

The Record Company Stay Out Of My Way. Whenever The Record Is Finished, They Take It.

Somewhere In A Burst Of Glory / Sound Becomes A Song.

My Voice Is My Improvisational Instrument, The Melody Instrument. The Guitar Is Harmonic Structure. I'm Not A Good Enough Guitarist To Improvise On It.