The art of love is who you share it with.

While the sun God will may your day, sing as a song in search of a voice that is silent, and the one God will make for your way.

The man in between waits between the two, not hearing the lie and not seeing the true. Unknowing what is and denying what seems, and there he will sleep, the man in between.

Money talks, but it don't sing and dance, and it don't walk. And long as I can have you here with me, I'd much rather be, forever in blue jeans.

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

I had always sung in my dad's shop. I worked there after school, and I'd be singing along with the top-40 records of the day.

Drop your shrink and stop your drinkin', crunchy granola's neat.