It Ain't My Cup Of Meat.

How Many Roads Must A Man Walk Down.. Before You Can Call Him A Man.

An Artist Is Always In The State Of Becoming.

And I Hope That You Die And Your Death'll Come Soon I Will Follow Your Casket In The Pale Afternoon And I'll Watch While You're Lowered Down To Your Deathbed And I'll Stand O'er Your Grave 'til I'm Sure That You're Dead

Peace Is The Time It Takes To Reload Your Rifle.

Broken Bottles, Broken Plates, Broken Switches, Broken Gates. Broken Dishes, Broken Parts, Streets Are Filled With Broken Hearts.