Madonna, she still has not showed, we see this empty cage now corrode, where her cape of the stage once had flowed, the fiddler he now steps to the road, on the back of the fish truck that loads, while my conscience explodes.

May you have a strong foundation when the winds of change shift...and may you be forever young.

Seven shots ring out like the ocean's pounding roar, there's seven people dead on a South Dakota farm.

You don't write a song to sit there on a page. You write it to sing it.

My senses have been stripped, my hands can't feel to grip, my toes to numb to step, wait only for my boot heels to be wandering.

She took off her wheel, took off her bell, took off her wig, said, how do I smell? I hot footed it barenaked out the window.

When you've got nothing, you've got nothing to loose.