He spent all night staring down at the lights on L.A., wondering if he ever could go home.

It's a rite of passage for the everyman, to a higher ground.

Some people say love is a losing game, you start with fire and you lose the flame. The ashes smolder, but the warmth's soon gone, you end up cold and lonely on your own.

She had been born with a face that would let her get away, he saw that face and he lost all control.

Dreams die hard and we watch them erode, but we cannot be denied the fire inside.

I'm just trying to keep things simple, and just be a little more offhand and not get so deep into things. Enjoy what you got right now, because who knows what's going to happen tomorrow.

Most of the time, I'm here in Michigan and I'm taking out the garbage every Monday.