Mick Jagger can't even make a successful solo album, and the Stones are the biggest rock group that ever was.

We all know that crap is king, give us dirty laundry.

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

So much time weeping and wailing and shaking our fists, creating enemies that really don't exist.

Fame, at one time, was associated with accomplishment, but in this day and age fame and notoriety have become confused.

I'm always jotting things down on pieces of paper. I've got pieces of paper all over my house.

What are these voices outside love's open door, make us throw off our contentment, and beg for something more?