Wooden ships are a hippie dream, capsized in excess if you know what I mean.

I don't know if I'll find the cinnamon girl. I think I already did, but I'm still singing, who knows.

I see a woman in the night with a baby in her hand, under an old street light near a garbage can.

I am just a dreamer, but you are just a dream

Freedom is an abstract offshoot. You can't describe freedom. How can you describe it? I tried and I failed.

Instead of cursing the darkness, light a candle for where we're going. There's something ahead worth fighting for.

People don't normally change when things are going well. But I want to see what's next and keep moving. That keeps things fresh.