I Suppose An Artist Takes The Elements

You Sit And You Let Your Fingers Go To Wherever They Are Going To Go. You Wait Until You Start To Hear Something, And You Start To Figure Out What It Is That You're Doing. And Then You Add Another Piece Next To That Piece, And Wait To See If Some Kind Of Pattern Or Something Interesting Starts To Grow, And Then You Cultivate It.

Somewhere In A Burst Of Glory / Sound Becomes A Song.

These Are The Days Of Miracle And Wonder.

Although I Was Able To Study Music With Teachers, I Never Studied Lyric Writing. I Read Poetry, And I Read Other Lyricists. But They Were Never Writing In The Style Or The Form That I Was Interested In.

She Said A Good Day Ain't Got No Rain She Said A Bad Day Is When I Lie In The Bed And I Think Of Things That Might Have Been