"I'm creeping along in the dark, my eyes is crafty, my pockets is bulging, I'm loaded, armed to the teeth--with leaflets! And am I quick on the draw, I come up to you very slowly, very sneaky and with one fell gesture...I tuck a leaflet into your hand! And then one! Two! Three! There's a riot! You're the riot! I incited you!"
"Oh the press, the press, the freedom of the press, they'll never take away the freedom of the press! You've only got to hint whatever's fit to print, it something's wrong with it, well then we'll print a fit. For which ever side will pay the best!"
"And an artist! Don't forget a few artists. They are the biggest whores."
"One big question inside me cries: How many fakers, peace undertakers, paid strike breakers, how many toiling, ailing, dying piled up bodies, brother, does it take to make you wise?"
That's thunder, that's lighting, and it's going to surround you! No wonder those storm birds seem to circle around you! Well, you can't climb down, and you can't sit still--that's the storm that's gonna last until the final wind blows! And when the wind blows--the CRADLE WILL ROCK!
"I support your art but that does not mean I must support your revolution."
Will Mr. Mister never get here?