Some people, it [songwriting] comes faster. Some people, it comes slower.
Deprivation is the mother of poetry.
... i didn't fall in love of course it's never up to you but she was walking back and forth and i was passing through
It's four in the morning, the end of december I'm writing you now just to see if you're better.
I don't trust my inner feelings, inner feelings come and go.
Out of the thousands who are known or who want to be known as poets, maybe one or two are genuine and the rest are fakes, hanging around the sacred precincts, trying to look like the real thing.