Touch a man who can't walk up right, and that lame man, he's gonna fly.

I got worries by the ton, getting cancer's only one. Over taxed and alimonied, tired of eating fried baloney.

September morn Do you remember how we danced that night away Two lovers playing scenes from some romantic play September morning still can make me feel this way.

The art of love is who you share it with.

But you make me sing like a guitar humming . . .

Shame, it comes in every size, touches many lives, knocks on many doors.

When love is unkind, it is not love anymore.