The Dead's Dead ... Get

High High In The Hills , High In A Pine Tree Bed. She's Tracing The Wind With That Old Hand, Counting The Clouds With That Old Chant, Three Geese In A Flock One Flew East One Flew West One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest

The Job Of The Writer Is To Kiss No Ass, No Matter How Big And Holy And White And Tempting And Powerful.

The Grateful Dead Are Faster Than Light Drive.

It Isn't By Getting Out Of The World That We Become Enlightened, But By Getting Into The World…by Getting So Tuned In That We Can Ride The Waves Of Our Existence And Never Get Tossed Because We Become The Waves.

He Who Marches Out Of Step Hears Another Drum