I Set My Monkey On The Log,

One Who Sings With His Tongue On Fire, Gargles In The Rat Race Choir.

They Can't Hurt Me. Sure, They Can Crush You And Kill You. They Can Lay You Out On 42nd And Broadway And Put Hoses On You And Flush You In The Sewers And Put You On The Subway And Carry You Out To Coney Island And Bury You On The Ferris Wheel. But I Refuse To Sit Here And Worry About Dying.

It's Not A House, It's A Home.

Don't Ask Me Nothing About Nothing, I Just Might Tell You The Truth

The Only Person You Have To Think About Lying Twice To Is Either Yourself Or To God. The Press Isn't Either Of Them. And I Just Figured They're Irrelevant.