I saw a Dead Head sticker on a Cadillac. A little voice inside my head said, don't look back, you can never look back.

I try to write conversationally; I try to write like people speak and put the emphasis on the right syllable.

Some records with drum machines on them sound phony and plastic. It all depends on how you use the tools.

Sharper than a serpents tongue, tighter than a bongo drum, quicker than a one night stand, slicker than a mambo band.

We're being treated to the wisdom of some puffed up, little fart. Doing exactly what I used to do, pretensions to anarchy and art.

My love for you will still be strong after the boys of summer have gone.

There are people in your life who've come and gone, they let you down and hurt your pride. Better put it all behind you, life goes on, you keep carrying that anger, it'll eat you up inside.