I swear that I'm dying slowly but it's happening, and if the perfect spring is waiting somewhere... just take me there.

And I sing and sing of awful things The pleasure that my sadness brings.

And me I'm in the bathroom crying out my eyelids because it's hard to be a man when you're scared, just like a little kid.

I find that moving keeps me optimistic, the idea of what's going to be down the road a bit or around the next bend.

My head's a carousel of pictures and The spinning never stops.

For a sunrise or a sunset, you're manic or you're depressed. Will you ever feel ok?

When I run into a person or a kid that comes up and gives me the spiel about, 'Hey, I got your record at this time in my life, and it really helped me,' that stuff totally still rings true. If you're standing there talking to someone, it's really easy to tell if they're being authentic or not. And that's great.