I Get The Urge For Going/but I

That's One Thing That's Always, Like, Been A Difference Between, Like, The Performing Arts, And Being A Painter, You Know. A Painter Does A Painting, And He Paints It, And That's It, You Know. He Has The Joy Of Creating It, It Hangs On A Wall, And Somebody Buys It, And Maybe Somebody Buys It Again, Or Maybe Nobody Buys It And It Sits Up In A Loft Somewhere Until He Dies. But He Never, You Know, Nobody Ever, Nobody Ever Said To Van Gogh, 'paint A Starry Night Again, Man!' You Know? He Painted It And That Was It.

He's Swept With The Broom Of Contempt And The Rooms Have An Empty Ring.

In Some Ways, My Gift For Music And Writing Was Born Out Of Tragedy, Really, And Loss.

I Didn't Think I Had Much Of A Following In The South. I Thought I Was Anonymous Down There So I Kept To The South. But I Found In Certain Pockets That I Was Quite Recognizable And I Just Hit A Wig Store.

Chase Away The Demons, And They Will Take The Angels With Them.