“Buy me a drink, sing me a song; take me as I come, cause I can’t stay long.”

And the days went by like paper in the wind. Everything changed, then changed again. It’s hard to find a friend. It’s hard to find a friend.

Somewhere, somehow, somebody must have kicked you around some. Tell me, why you want to lay there, revel in your abandon?

You believe what you want to believe.

You can stand me up at the gates of hell, but I won’t back down.

I’m actually better on the guitar than when I started, I think, because I’ve had so much time with it and I still practice and I love to do it and I love to sing.

Running down a dream… working on a mystery… going wherever it leads.

I don’t treat the band like I’m above them or that they’re a hired hand for me. We’ve never worked that way. So I’m a team player. I would be very uncomfortable having to do this alone.

Music really isn’t supposed to be perfect. It’s all about people relating to each other and doing something that’s really from the soul. It must come from the soul.

I ain’t really sure, but it seems I remember the good times.

I got my own way of praying.

Sometimes life, will get you down, break your heart, steal your crown.

You and I will meet again, When we’re least expecting it, One day in some far off place, I will recognize your face, I won’t say goodbye my friend, For you and I will meet again.

You spend your life dreaming, running ’round in a trance, You hang out forever and still miss the dance, And if you get lucky, you might find someone, To help you get over the pain that will come.

I’m not exactly a guy who makes new friends easily.

Most things I worry about never happen anyway.

When you kill somebody’s little sister with a missile, he’s going to hate you forever. And the next generation will hate you even more.

They’re drinkin’ home brew from a wooden cup. The folks were dancin’ there got all shook up.

I notice increasing reluctance on the part of marketing executives to use judgment; they are coming to rely too much on research, and they use it as a drunkard uses a lamp post for support, rather than for illumination.

In my lowest moments, the only reason I didn’t commit suicide was that I knew I wouldn’t be able to drink any more if I was dead.

I’m not a drunk anymore, but since they cut out my tongue, I sound drunk.

Many people – and I think I am one of them – are more productive when they’ve had a little to drink. I find if I drink two or three brandies, I’m far better able to write.

I’m still terrified of flying. I really have to get drunk to fly. I’ve found that I’ve developed fears I never had before… fears of heights, claustrophobia only in cities, though, never in the country.

Let us eat, drink and satisfy our coarse appetites, but let us keep our souls sacred and apart.

I’ve drank more beer and pissed more blood and banged more women than all you numb nuts put together!