Stood alone on a mountain top, starin' out at the Great Divide. I could go east, I could go west, it was all up to me to decide. Just then I saw a young hawk flyin' and my soul began to rise.

There was this long lovely dancer in a little club downtown, love to watch her do her stuff.

Here I am, on the road again. There I am, up on the stage. Here I go, playing star again. There I go, turn the page.

It was 22 years of work in a row, right up until 1987. Twenty-two years in a row-either on tour, writing an album, or recording an album. It wasn't until 1987 that I was able to take a breath.

I just start playing music and eventually I sing something, a line of a verse or a B section or a line of a chorus, and the line that I end up singing is related to the music I'm playing, if that makes any sense. And I go from there.

Later in the evening when you lie awake in bed with the echoes from the amplifiers ringing in your head.

My walk had purpose, my steps were quick and light, and I held firmly to what I felt was right.