Telephone message on his manager's answering machine shortly before dying of heroin overdose: I need help bad, man.
You're just like crosstown traffic, so hard to get through to you.
Knowledge is speaking, wisdom is listening
I try all night to play a pretty note.
Your people I do not understand, so to you I shall put an end, and you'll never hear surf music again.
Room Full Of Mirrors, that's more of a mental disarrangement. This says something about broken glass used to be all in my brain.