”I live on Earth at present, and I don’t know what I am. I know that I am not a category. I am not a thing—a noun. I seem to be a verb, an evolutionary process—an integral function of the universe.”
So ride with the setting sun
Until your own war is one
Your marching song plays on and on
Walk through the hills
The ones so golden, the ones beholdin’
The fondest memories of yesteryear
These were The Last Days of Summer
Before the leaves had fallen from the trees
