The Shovel Is The Brother

There Are Men And Women So Lonely They Believe God, Too, Is Lonely.

The Past Is A Bucket Of Ashes

Drum On Your Drums, Batter On Your Banjos, Sob On The Long Cool Winding Saxophones. Go To It, O Jazzmen.

If I Added To Their Pride Of America, I Am Happy.

Who Am I, Where Have I Been, And Where Am I Going?