You remember the night that you left me, you put me in my place. Got you in a stranglehold now baby, gonna crush your face.

The Second Amendment of our Bill of Rights is my Concealed Weapons Permit, period.

I can hear her thunder, she's coming after me, thunder thighs.

I'm stoned on my music. I'm intoxicated by my joyful calendar between the tours, and the hunting, and the charity work, and the family time, and just my lifestyle living on a ranch in Texas and back when I lived on my ranch in Michigan. It's the epitome of individual independence, self-sufficiency, hands-on, earthly celebration and we tour every summer like complete animals.

Look what venison does to a goofy guitar player from Detroit? I'm going to be 54 this year and if I had any more energy I'd scare you.

Brilliant thoughts flow with a life of their own to a dedicated reasoning predator up in a tree with a bow and arrow half the year meditating soulfully in anticipation to kill unsuspecting meat-infested herbivores.

The greatest philosopher of all time was Dirty Harry. And if you remember, Dirty Harry took the words right out of my mouth: "A good man needs to know his limitations."