Satan Will Give You A

Lay Down The Song You Strum, And Rest Yourself 'neath The Strength Of Strings No Voice Can Hope To Hum.

The First Thing I Know, I'm In A Card Game. Then I'm In A Crap Game.

Come Writers And Critics Who Prophesize With Your Pen And Keep Your Eyes Wide The Chance Won't Come Again And Don't Speak Too Soon For The Wheel's Still In Spin And There's No Tellin' Who That It's Namin' For The Loser Now Will Be Later To Win For The Times They Are A-changin'.

I Was So Much Older Then; I'm Younger Than That Now. From The Back Pages

The Hollow Horn Plays Wasted Words, Proves To Warn That He Not Busy Being Born Is Busy Dying.