Inside your own self pity there you swim, in sinking down to drown her voice still haunts you, and only with your laughter can you win.

Rationally I have no hope, irrationally I believe in miracles.

I can't remember anything I ever wrote.

Rolling Stone hates me. They must have an editorial policy to do me in for many years.

I'm a very analytical person, a somewhat introspective person; that's the nature of the work I do.

So many things I would have done, but clouds got in my way.

You could write a song about some kind of emotional problem you are having, but it would not be a good song, in my eyes, until it went through a period of sensitivity to a moment of clarity. Without that moment of clarity to contribute to the song, it's just complaining.