Now I'm livin' out here on the beach, but those seagulls are still out of reach.
It's stupid to expect perfection from bands because afterall they're just human beings.
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.
Starts out slow and then fizzles out altogether.
The true martial artist yields to the weak, while withstanding the strong.
With Crazy Horse, it's all one big, growing, smoldering sound, and I'm part of it. It's like gliding, or some sort of natural surfing.