My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus. It's that kind of morning.
I'm going back to my parrot head friends.
He went to Paris looking for answers to questions that bothered him so. He was impressive, young and aggressive, saving the world on his own.
Tonight I just need my guitar.
I got a PBS mind in an MTV world.
Some of it's magic and some of it's tragic but I had a good life all the way.