Every song falls short of the glory of what a song could be. That's why the urge is there to start again and yet again. Often it's the fault of rhyme. I've discovered a hundred times that there just aren't enough rhymes to say what I wanted to say, so I said something else instead. Sometimes it was a better thing, but the thing I meant to say went unsaid. So there's an opening for another song.

Ain't nobody messin' with you but you

In wickedness of pride is lost the light to understand how little grace is earned and how much given.

There are things you can replace, and others you cannot. The time has come to weigh those things, this space is getting hot.

But never give your love, my friend, Unto a foolish heart

It's better to wear seaweed socks than stick a melon in your brother's ear.

Ain't no time to hate, barely time to wait