“My heart is broke, but I have some glue, help me inhale and mend it with you.”

I’m on my time with everyone.

Do your own thing. Others own their own thing. If you copy too much, you’ll find yourself in late night cocktail lounge cover band limbo.

Holding my baby is the best drug in the world.

I only remember a few things about Jimmy Carter. He had big lips and liked peanuts. I now know that Jimmy Carter was and is a good man.

Drugs are bad for you. They will fuck you up.

I didn’t find any of the girls in my high school attractive at all.

I never wanted to sing. I just wanted to play rhythm guitar – hide in the back and just play.

I had a really good childhood up until I was nine, then a classic case of divorce really affected me.

I want to do something different, really different, and if it alienates people that’s too bad.

If chasing cool is important to you, you’re an idiot!

I just hope I don’t become so blissful I become boring. I think I’ll always be neurotic enough to do something weird.

Oh well, whatever, nevermind.

Here we are now, entertain us.

Humans are stupid. I’m ashamed to be human.

If you’re really a mean person you’re going to come back as a fly and eat poop.

I like to make people feel happy and superior in their reaction towards my appearance.

We are broken. But never beyond repair.

We spent a life time loving, to write an ode to heartbreak in the end.

You are a nameless prayer, my heart begs to be brought again to existence.

They said everything I lost will come back to me. I said -everything I’ve lost is too lost to ever come back to Me.

My love isn’t love. It is devotion. I don’t fall in love, I shatter. I don’t love, I worship.

Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me.

You are the oxygen and I’m dying to breathe.

Dreams are built, and hearts are broken, by things that are said, but not meant.