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Davey Crocket, Peter Pan, Elvis Presley, Disneyland.
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She will promise you more Than the Garden of Eden Then she'll carelessly cut you And laugh while you're bleeding.
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There's a deep-seated paranoia that Americans have about not being Americans or something.
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Like family, we are tied to each other. This is what all good musicians understand.
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Some folks like to get away Take a holiday from the neighborhood. Hop a flight to Miami Beach Or to Hollywood But I'm talking a Greyhound On the Hudson River Line. I'm in a New York state of mind.
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I don't know why I go to extremes.
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Some people sleep all alone every night Instead of taking a lover to bed Some people find that it's easier to hate Than to wait anymore.
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I am no longer afraid of becoming lost, because the journey back always reveals something new, and that is ultimately good for the artist.
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We're on the verge of all things new.
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Don't go changing, to try and please me You never let me down before.
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Forced to recognize our inhumanity, our reason coexists with our insanity. And though we choose between reality and madness, it's either sadness or euphoria.
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The good days weren't really so good, and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems.
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Some of the stuff I'm writing is almost like hymns, some of my first singing and choral experiences were in church, the Church of Christ in Hicksville.
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Let me go on sleeping and I will lose myself in palaces of sand, and all the fantasies that I've been keeping will make the empty hours easier to stand.
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I compare songwriting to childbirth. How many kids can you have before your uterus explodes?
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Every time I've held a rose, It seems I only felt the thorns.
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When I was 19, I made my first good week's pay as a club musician. It was enough money for me to quit my job at the factory and still pay the rent and buy some food. I freaked.
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I've passed the age of consciousness and righteous rage. I found that just surviving was a noble fight.
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When you look into my eyes And you see the crazy gypsy in my soulIt always comes as a surprise When I feel my withered roots begin to grow Well I never had a place that I could call my very own That's all right, my love, 'cause you're my home.
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Go on and cry in your coffee, but don't come bitching to me.
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We all end in the ocean. We all start in the streams. We're all carried along, by the river of dreams.
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I am, as I've said, merely competent. But in an age of incompetence, that makes me extraordinary.
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I sold my house to Jerry Seinfeld.
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There will be other words some other day; that is the story of my life.