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

Maybe tonight, maybe tonight by the fire all alone you and I. Nothing around but the sound of heart and your sighs.

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.

Then come and as we lay, beside this sleepy glade, there I will sing to you my Longfellow serenade.

Songs are life in 80 words or less.

When I first started, I worked with three chords in every bar, but I found that tied me down - I'm not a chord-change writer, I'm a songwriter.

I am, I cried. I am, I said. And I am lost.