Once You Think You Know The Song,

You Need Something To Open Up A New Door, To Show You Something You Seen Before But Overlooked A Hundred Times Or More

Sold My Guitar To The Baker's Son For A Few Crumbs And A Place To Hide.

A Lot Of People Can't Stand Touring But To Me It's Like Breathing. I Do It Because I'm Driven To Do It.

Madonna, She Still Has Not Showed, We See This Empty Cage Now Corrode, Where Her Cape Of The Stage Once Had Flowed, The Fiddler He Now Steps To The Road, On The Back Of The Fish Truck That Loads, While My Conscience Explodes.

Because Dickens And Dostoyevsky And Woody Guthrie Were Telling Their Stories Much Better Than I Ever Could, I Decided To Stick To My Own Mind.