Letters from the Lunar Outpost

O reputation! dearer far than life, Thou precious balsam, lovely, sweet of smell, Whose cordial drops once spilt by some rash hand, Not all the owner's care, nor the repenting toil Of the rude spiller, ever can collect To its first purity and native sweetness.
- Walter Raleigh, English Statesman and Man of Letters (1552-1618)

It’s blind faith (blind faith)

Drive down the freeways
A cool wind is blowin’
And you don’t notice
Where the hell you’re goin’

Once I had a friend on the dark side of town
Once I had a friend who really let me down
Who’s really drivin’ this thing? Who’s at the wheel?
Where does your trust lie, baby? Is your faith real?

Drive down the freeways . . .

Once I had a girl
(She took his hand and led him down the primrose path)

Once I had a girl, she was so good to me
Once I had a girl, it ended bitterly
You may be ridin’ on an ill-fated trip
Make sure that you know where they’re guiding your ship

( . . . interlude)

Drive down the freeways . . .

Drive down the freeways . . .

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Team of Rivals
Doris Kearns Goodwin