When you think that you lost everything you find out you can always lose a little more.
Night can swallow you up, yet none of it touches you. Around any corner, there's a promise of something daring and ideal and things are just getting going. There's something obscenely joyful behind every door, either that or somebody crying with their head in in their hands. A lazy rhythm looms in the dreamy air and the atmosphere pulsates with bygone duels, past-life romance, comrades requesting comrades to aid them in some way. You can't see it, but you know it's there
I've never gone for having a great voice, for cultivating one. I'm still not doing it now.
I'm the oldest son of a crazy man, I'm in a cowboy band.
I love Country Music but what happened to it?
People talk of situations, read books, repeat quotations.
Why wait any longer for the one you love When he’s standing in front of you
She knows there's no success like failure, and that failure's no success at all.
If my thought-dreams could be seen/ They'd probably put my head in a guillotine.
Well the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount, But nothing really matters much it's doom alone that counts.
Beauty walks a razors edge, someday I'll make it mine.
They're selling postcards of the hanging They're painting the passports brown The beauty parlor is filled with sailors The circus is in town Here comes the blind commissioner They've got him in a trance One hand is tied to the tight-rope walker The other is in his pants And the riot squad they're restless They need somewhere to go As Lady and I look out tonight From Desolation Row.
It's not dark yet But it's getting there
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken, I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children, And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.
Rumble is the best instrumental ever.
I gotta friend who spends his life, stabbing my picture with a bowie knife. Dreams of strangling me with a scarf, when my name comes up he pretends to barf.
Masters of the bluff and masters of the proposition, but the enemy I see wears a cloak of decency.
There ought to be a law about you coming around.
Patriotism is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings.
Sing your praise of progress and the doom machine, the naked truth is still taboo whenever it can be seen.
God knows there's a heaven.
With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks, you've been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books.
Well the Lone Ranger and Tonto, they are riding down the line fixing everybody's troubles, everybody except mine.
When the jelly faced women all sneeze, hear the one with the mustache say I can't find my knees.
I believe in you, even though I be outnumbered.
"America was founded on the backs of slaves."
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