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.

Me and crazy Janey were making love in the dirt singing our birthday songs.

Let's raise our glass and let the hammer fly, yeah, this is the long good-bye.

Mama always told me not to look into the sights of the sun. Oh, but mama, that's where the fun is.

Sometimes, at night you could hear the whole damn city crying.

You may not be able to hit all the notes. That's OK. You may not have the clearest tone. You may not have the greatest range. But if you can inhabit your song, you can communicate.

You'll walk with me out on the wire, cuz baby, I'm just a scared and lonely rider, but I gotta know how it feels... I want to know love is wild, babe, I want to know love is real.