Is your head up your ass so far that you can't pull it out?
His songs were soon curled on the lips of the world, they had earned him the highest acclaim. And yet his greatest desire was the simple warmth of love's fire, cause it's cold on the dark side of fame.
I sat at a bar having a beer trying to hold down the stool.
Heaven is laying in my sweet baby's arms, hell is when my baby's not here.
What bothers me most is that I don't bother you.
The Hank Williams Syndrome: Come to Nashville, write some good songs, cut some hit records, make money, take all the drugs you can and drink all you can, become a wild man and all of a sudden die.