I'm not sure about life after this; god knows I'm not a spiritual man.

I've crashed my car three times.

I can't remember faces, don't remember names, but after awhile and a thousand miles it all becomes the same.

I've written a bunch of stuff that no one's ever heard, and I don't know if they ever will. I'm just doing it for my own edification.

It should be easy for a man who's strong to say he's sorry or admit when he's wrong.

If I need a cause for celebration, Or a comfort I can use to ease my mind, I rely on my imagination, And I dream of an imaginary time.

She's got a smile that heals me.