As I'm getting older a lot of my friends I used to go out and party with, they're all dead. The fact that I've been through that, I'm not proud of the fact that I've been through all that, but it's part of my journey. I'm lucky to be alive. I'm lucky to be playing music.

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.

Mental wounds not healing, who and what's to blame. I'm going off the rails on a crazy train.

I can honestly say, all the bad things that ever happened to me were directly, directly attributed to drugs and alcohol. I mean, I would never urinate at the Alamo at nine o'clock in the morning dressed in a woman's evening dress sober.

I have a genuine love affair with my audience. When I'm on stage they're not privileged to see me. It's a privilege for me to see them.

Evil thoughts and evil doing, cold, alone, you hang in ruins.

I retired once but you've got to have something to retire to and I don't want to do anything. My job is like a well paid hobby, I mean not a hobby but I'm not lining up every morning at the bus queue to go to work. I'm very lucky.