Mother Goose, she's on the skids. Sure ain't happy, neither are the kids.

Sailing heart-ships through broken harbors out on the waves of the night, still the searcher must ride the dark horse racing alone in his fright.

Nothing is perfect...We're really more interested in what we're saying than how we're saying it.

I was just 20 years old when I wrote Broken Arrow.

I think the ultimate result of it is you can get inside the record.

It was then I knew I'd had enough, Burned my credit card for fuel Headed out to where the pavement turns to sand With a one-way ticket to the land of truth And my suitcase in my hand

Now I'm livin' out here on the beach, but those seagulls are still out of reach.