“The villains have turned into heroes. The heroes have turned into heals.”

And yet his greatest desire was the simple warmth of love’s fire, cause it’s cold on the dark side of fame.

What I did. I’ve listened to it, and I think it was more a west coast rock thing, you know? But it fit. It was country, but it was my own interpretation of country.

I say, Lord, do right be me, I’m tired of being lonesome, on’ry, and mean.

I ain’t got no reverse. I’ve learned, a little later in life, it works out pretty good to have one every once in a while.

I was king of the mountain for a long time, well, I don’t want that no more.

Lately I’ve heard rumors that the eagle may be lame. Just because I’ve been idle, don’t mean that I’m tame.

This is getting funny, but there ain’t nobody laughing.

He gave us all a mind to think with and to know what’s right or wrong, he is that inner spirit that keeps us strong.

I don’t think there’s anything you can do this way or that way to change anything.

But ya know what, I am a part of something that happened.

If you see me getting smaller, I’m leaving, don’t be grieving, just gotta get away from here. If you see me getting smaller, don’t worry, and no hurry, I’ve got the right to disappear.

Each tomorrow will depend on the love you give today.

I could have killed her when we first met and I’ve been out of jail by now.

Those neon light nights, couldn’t stay out of fights, keeps a-haunting me in memories.

Heaven is laying in my sweet baby’s arms, hell is when my baby’s not here.

I didn’t aim at anything except good music.

It turned out that time doesn’t heal the wound , but in its so merciful way , blunts the edges ever so slightly

You slammed my face down on the barbecue grill, now my scars are all healing, but my heart never will.

Either we heal now, as a team, or we will die as individuals.

You can’t ever have healing if the patient is left out of the operation room.

The hardest part about being a celebrity is having to heal on a public stage.

Forgetting about our mistakes and our wounds isn’t enough to make them disappear.

Can individual psychic wounds really heal in an abusive and fragmented society? Audre Lorde has a poem which begins,

“Support” groups for every kind of human condition, where, in the clichés of that milieu, people “share” and “heal,” the question, “What for?”, “What now?” is no longer asked.