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I'm writing for the sake of writing music. Whether it gets heard or not isn't an issue for me. It keeps my own juices going and my mind active.
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Well, he robbed his way from Utah to Oklahoma And the law just could not seem to track him down And it served his legend well For the folks, they'd love to tell 'Bout when Billy the Kid came to town.
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Don't go changing, to try and please me You never let me down before.
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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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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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Streetlife serenaders Have no obligations Hold no grand illusions Need no stimulation.
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There's a deep-seated paranoia that Americans have about not being Americans or something.
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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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It should be easy for a man who's strong to say he's sorry or admit when he's wrong.
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Davey Crocket, Peter Pan, Elvis Presley, Disneyland.
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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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Like family, we are tied to each other. This is what all good musicians understand.
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We're on the verge of all things new.
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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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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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There will be other words some other day; that is the story of my life.
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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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Where have you been hanging out lately honey? You can't dress trashy 'til you spend a lot of money.
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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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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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Honesty is the best part of any art form. If you don't have that, you're kidding yourself and your listener.
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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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Every time I've held a rose, It seems I only felt the thorns.
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You've got to be hard, like the rock in that old rock & roll.