Remember how I found you there alone in your electric chair, I told you dirty jokes until you smiled.

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.

I have a theory that the only original things we ever do are mistakes.

I'm carrying the weight of all the useless junk and modern man accumulates.

Well I never had a place that I could call my very own/That's all right, my love, 'cause you're my home.

You want to give people a reason to hate my guts more? I'm making more money.

I look at some of the songs I wrote years ago and I can't believe I wrote such crap.