Indians scattered on dawn's highway bleeding/Ghosts crowd the young child's fragile eggshell mind.

The grand highway is crowded w/lovers & searchers & leavers so eager to please & forget. Wilderness.

I like any reaction I can get with my music. Just anything to get people to think. I mean if you can get a whole room full of drunk, stoned people to actually wake up and think, you're doing something.

I want to have my kicks before the whole shithouse goes up in flames.

Give me songs to sing and emerald dreams to dream and I'll give you love unfolding.

That’s what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is....Most people love you for who you pretend to be....To keep their love, you keep pretending - performing. You get to love your pretense...It’s true, we’re locked in an image, an act - and the sad thing is, people get so used to their image - they grow attached to their masks. They love their chains. They forget all about who they really are. And if you try to remind them, they hate you for it - they feel like you’re trying to steal their most precious possession.

It may have been in pieces, but I gave you the best of me.