You use to drive me wild, but lately you get your kicks from just knocking me down, down, down.

Roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair. The night's busted open. These two lanes will take us anywhere.

Mister, I ain't a boy, no I'm a man, and i believe in a promised land.

The great challenge of adulthood is holding on to your idealism after you lose your innocence.

Most artists I know consider themselves to be phonies, along with the feeling that there's something that you're doing is essential, essential to communicate, and deeply, deeply real.

Outside the street's on fire in a real death waltz between what's flesh and what's fantasy.

Madman drummers, bummers, Indians in the summer with a teenage diplomat. In the dumps with the mumps as the adolescent pumps his way into his hat.