And I must be what I must be and face tomorrow.

Nor is it strange That after changes upon changes, we are more or less the same

We're living in a certain time, and we're aware of it. And that's part of what we're aware of, along with our own personal aches and pains.

You know, life is what you make of it- so beautiful or so what.

I'm always going forward toward something, and that something is usually an album, because I like to record. I probably like to record more than I like to write.

The leaves that are green turn to brown. And they wither with the wind. And they crumble in your hand.

Somewhere in a burst of glory / Sound becomes a song.