I was sick of the way my lyrics had been extrapolated, their meanings subverted into polemics and that I had been anointed as the Big Bubba of Rebellion, High Priest of Protest, the Duke of Disobedience, Leader of the Freeloaders, Kaiser of Apostasy, Archbishop of Anarchy, the Big Cheese. Horrible titles any way you want to look at it. All code words for Outlaw.

Nothing can affect my voice, it's so bad.

Every day your memory grows dimmer - it doesn't haunt me like it did before.

I took her by the hand and my heart it was thumpin'. When she said, hey man, you crazy or somethin'?

I kissed goodbye the howling beast on the borderline which separated you from me.

In the fury of the moment/ I can see the Master's hand In every leaf that trembles, in/ every grain of sand.

In writing songs, I've learned as much from Cezanne as I have from Woody Guthrie.