And seemingly as winter has become spring, confusion has become insight.

The whole world, myself included, seem to have one thing in common; we're just a crowd of people who don't really fit in anywhere attempting to convince one another that we do. I guess I'll put my sunglasses on and pretend, like everyone else, that I too belong here.

The freeway is just like veins without a heart.

And seemingly as winter has become spring, confusion has become insight.

For a moment there I convinced myself I had my back against a wall, and suddenly the only wall I find my back against is that of a 10 by 10 writing shack in Glendale, where the summer days average between 90 and 100 and each song can be quantified in the sweat it took to write it. There is no ac in hell, and sometimes you've got to get down to get up. The train is gaining speed I should think.

I try not to release songs that I'm not proud of, and even songs that I don't connect with.

Things are fragile, but we're all being carried and I think we're all on our path in that sense. As fragile as things are, we're still getting there.