I hate myself for loving you and the weakness that it showed. You were just a painted face on a trip down to suicide road.

I just wanted a song to sing, and there came a point where I couldn't sing anything...nobo dy else was writing what I wanted to sing. I couldn't find it anywhere. If I could I probably would never have started writing.

Well the book of Leviticus and Deuteronomy, the law of the jungle and the sea are your only teachers.

Ain't it hard when you discover that, he wasn't really where it's at, after he took from you everything he could steal. How does it feel?

A lot of people don't like the road, but it's as natural to me as breathing.

Too much information about nothing.

Mama's in the factory, she ain't got no shoes. Daddy's in the alley, he's looking for food.