I'm A Painter First, And

But Now Old Friends Are Acting Strange They Shake Their Heads, They Say I've Changed Well Something's Lost, But Something's Gained In Living Every Day

Nobody Understood The Reoccurring Dream, But After September 11, When We Were Coerced To Do A National Duty And Go Out And Shop, Surely People Could Begin To See What I Was Getting At.

White Rhythm Is Waltzes, Marches, And The Polka. In Africa, Rhythm Is Used For A Celebratory Groove, But White Rhythm Doesn't Have Such An Enormous Vocabulary Of Spirits. It's Basically Militant.

We're Captive On The Carousel Of Time, We Can't Return We Can Only Look Behind.

Once I Got The Open Tunings For Some Reason, I Began To Get The Harmonic Sophistication That I Heard That My Musical Fountain Inside Was Excited By. Once I Got Some Interesting Chords To Play With, My Writing Began To Come.