You say you're looking for someone who'll pick you up each time you fall, to gather flowers constantly and to come each time you call, a lover your life and nothing more. But it ain't me, babe.

Take me disappearing, through the smoke rings of my mind, down the foggy ruins of time.

People don't live or die, people just float.

I gotta friend who spends his life, stabbing my picture with a bowie knife. Dreams of strangling me with a scarf, when my name comes up he pretends to barf.

Stop all this weeping, swallow your pride/ You will not die, its not poison -Tombstone Blues

There's enough songs for people to listen to, if they want to listen to songs. For every man, woman and child on earth, they could be sent, probaby, each of them, a hundred records, and never be repeated. There's enough songs. Unless someone's gonna come along with a pure heart and has something to say. That's a different story.

My songs were influenced not so much by poetry on the page but by poetry being recited by the poets who recited poems with jazz bands.