I really like the thing I did with Martina McBride. I had that song sitting around for a long time.
Sing your praise of progress and the doom machine, the naked truth is still taboo whenever it can be seen.
You don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.
All the money you made will never buy back your soul.
He did ten years in Attica, reading Nietzsche and Wilhelm Reich.
The dirt of gossip blows into my face and the dust rumors cover me. But if the arrow is straight and the point is slick, it can pierce through dust no matter how thick.
You have to work out where your place is. And who you are. But we're all spirit. That's all we are, we're just walking dressed up in a suit of skin, and we're going to leave that behind.
The head best leaves to the heart what the heart alone divines.
Don't sell life insurance. Sell what life insurance can do.
Style is whatever you want to do, if you can do it with confidence.
I have the right ideas, but my words are too. . . complicated. I need to simplify them, so that people won't get lost in the dark when they see and hear them. I want them to shine like beacons of light in a world of overly complicated darkness. One day I will find the right words, and they will be simple.