The men who could not fight, in a war that didn't seem right. You let them come home, America.

We did an album one time called White Mansions, about the civil war, but it was written by a guy from England. His looking at it from over there and it not being a part of his history made it so he could be objective.

I didn't aim at anything except good music.

This world that I live in is empty and cold/the loneliness cuts me and tortures my soul.

Besides that, I felt guilty. I thought for some reason... I was alive, and Buddy and those boys were dead, and I didn't know how, but somehow I'd caused it.

Was an American archetype, the bad guy with the big heart.

Lately I've heard rumors that the eagle may be lame. Just because I've been idle, don't mean that I'm tame.