"But not, no, I don't believe, you can't convince me, that even in this day and age of wild rage and lightning fast thought-evolution flying under burnt lemon skys, that there is no clay beneath my feet that can truely hold my image. Man can name all the animals but try to carve your hand print into a mountain and let the earth show you who formed who.

I've always been one to know my place, and I want the dust covering my feet, I want to be the sculpture the earth makes in fit of inspired boredom, never to wash myself down this world has eaten better men than me alive and perhaps I'll just be a hunter-gatherer, praying that the buffalo would show me mercy and lets make a wild moment of it, it is the natural order of things"