The birth of a doubt that was once your belief is drowning in the tears that you cry.

There's no present, there's no future, I don't even know about the past.

I advise that pregnant women do not come to my concerts.

There are no incurable ills.

The first question that comes out of everybody's mouth, 'Did you bite the head off a bat?' And I did, so, next.

I would lock myself in my room and drink a case of Corona and smoke a load of pot.

I was curious, given the swimming pools of booze I’ve guzzled over the years - not to mention all of the cocaine, morphine, sleeping pills, cough syrup, LSD, Rohypnol… there’s really no plausible medical reason why I should still be alive. Maybe my DNA could say why.