Imagine There's No Heaven... It's Easy If

The Postman Wants An Autograph. The Cab Driver Wants A Picture. The Waitress Wants A Handshake. Everyone Wants A Piece Of You.

There Is An Alternative To War. It's Staying In Bed And Growing Your Hair.

We All Have Hitler In Us, But We Also Have Love And Peace. So Why Not Give Peace A Chance For Once?

Songwriting Is About Getting The Demon Out Of Me. It's Like Being Possessed. You Try To Go To Sleep, But The Song Won't Let You. So You Have To Get Up And Make It Into Something, And Then You're Allowed To Sleep. It's Always In The Middle Of The Night, Or You're Half-awake Or Tired, When Your Critical Faculties Are Switched Off. So Letting Go Is What The Whole Game Is. Every Time You Try To Put Your Finger On It, It Slips Away. You Turn On The Lights And The Cockroaches Run Away. You Can Never Grasp Them...

It Seems To Me That The Students Are Now Half-awake Enough To Try And Wake Up Their Brother Workers. If You Don't Pass On Your Own Awareness Then It Closes Down Again.