Wordsworth, The world is too much with us, late and soon ...
Cummings, King Christ this world is all aleak, and life preservers there are none ...
Welch, You can't fix it, you can't make it go away ...
Joyce, History is a nightmare ...
Guthrie, Never comin back to this man's town again, singin HEY HEY HEY HEY!
Cummings, as long as you and i have arms and lips which are for kissing and to sing with, who cares if some one eyed son of a bitch invents an instrument to measure Spring with?
Cummings, King Christ this world is all aleak, and life preservers there are none ...
Welch, You can't fix it, you can't make it go away ...
Joyce, History is a nightmare ...
Guthrie, Never comin back to this man's town again, singin HEY HEY HEY HEY!
Cummings, as long as you and i have arms and lips which are for kissing and to sing with, who cares if some one eyed son of a bitch invents an instrument to measure Spring with?