I'll Protect Myself By Making

But Who Cares? I Can Honestly Look Back And Realize That Everything Happened For A Reason. Everything That Fell Apart Has Fallen Back Into Place Beautifully And Magically.

You're Just Playing, Playing, Playing, And Then An Image Or Something Will Come Into Your Mind, And Basically You're Just Narrating It With Music, Letting It Move Along.

You Feel Like A Prisoner If You Don't Create. You're Jailed Up Inside Of Yourself.

My Son Writes Songs And Plays. He Sings Like An Angel.

There's Nothing I Hate More Than Nothing.