I write a lot of songs people don’t hear. I really just enjoy the process. I finish ’em all. I don’t think there’s a whole lot of difference between the bad ones and the good ones.
I had the opportunity to be around my kids a lot. I guess I could have kept working, but I had them when I was 47. You only get to see all this stuff once. I just chose to work at home and watch them.
Stood alone on a mountain top, starin’ out at the Great Divide. I could go east, I could go west, it was all up to me to decide. Just then I saw a young hawk flyin’ and my soul began to rise.
My management tells me, Don’t be optimistic, because it’s the young people’s world now. They want to hear what they want to hear, and you’re a classic rocker. I don’t know if you’re gonna get the play.
Out past the cornfields where the woods got heavy, out in the back seat of my ’60 Chevy. Workin’ on mysteries without any clues, workin’ on our night moves.
It was 22 years of work in a row, right up until 1987. Twenty-two years in a row-either on tour, writing an album, or recording an album. It wasn’t until 1987 that I was able to take a breath.
If I want to work, I can. If I want to play golf, or ride my motorcycle, I can. But the rest of it is family. Sometimes you’re not really needed by your family, but you’re there. And my kids like to know I’m there.
