If you are not doing what you love, you are wasting your time.
The piano sounds like a carnival and the microphone smells like a beer. And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar and say, man, what are you doing here?
I see the winos talking to themselves and I can understand.
I can't remember faces, don't remember names, but after awhile and a thousand miles it all becomes the same.
We passed the hash pipe and played our Doors tapes.
I hope it does not take the rest of my life until I find what it is I've been looking for.