Don't expect me to cry for the wrong reasons.

You know what I hate about rock? I hate tie-dyed tee shirts. I wouldn't wear a tie-dyed tee shirt unless it was dyed with the urine of Phil Collins and the blood of Jerry Garcia.

And I swear that I don't have a gun...no I don't have a gun

I'd like to live off the band, but if not, I'll just retire to Mexico or Yugoslavia with a few hundred dollars, grow potatoes, and learn the history of rock through back issues of Creem magazine.

I didn't know how to deal with success. If there was a Rock Star 101, I would have liked to take it. It might have helped me.

I was accepted by cool people because the cheerleaders thought I was cute. The jocks knew the jock-girls thought I was cute. I just chose not to hang around with them.

The sun is gone, but I have a light.