San Quentin, may you rot and burn in hell. May your walls fall and may I live to tell.

it's good to know who hates you and it is good to be hated by the right people

I think in my world of religion, you're called to preach or you don't preach. Called by God to preach. I never been ordained by God to preach the gospel. I have a calling, it's called to perform and sing.

The beer and the wurst were wonderful, but I was dying to be back in the South, where the livin' was easy, where the fish were jumpin', where the cotton grew high.

He was removed from jail and placed in a place for the insensitive and insane.

When I get an idea for a song it would gel in my mind for weeks or months, and then one day just like that, Ill write it.

Now that I know that I've needed you so, help me, Jesus. My soul's in your hand.