By The Age Of Six Or Seven,

You Wouldn't Know It, From Some Of The Things I've Said Over The Years, But I Like People. I Do. I Like People, But I Like Them In Short Bursts. I Don't Like People For Extended Periods Of Time. I'm All Right With Them For A Little While, But Once You Get Up Past Around... A Minute, Minute And A Half, I Gotta Get The Fuck Out Of There.

I Have A Lot Of Things [in Me] That Are Childlike And Innocent And Sweet.

One Time. In 1965. August, For About An Hour, I Was Both Fine And Dandy At The Same Time. But Nobody Asked Me How I Was.

I Went Through The Usual Stages: Imp, Rascal, Scalawag, Whippersnapper. And, Of Course, After That It's Just A Small Step To Full-blown Sociopath.

In My Neighborhood - West 121st Street In New York, "white Harlem" - There Were Only Two Drugs: Smack And Marijuana. By The Time I Was 13, Some Friends And I Were Using Marijuana Fairly Regularly. The Reefer Madness Myth Was Still Very Strong Then, But I'd Been Into Jazz And Those Lyrics Included So Many Casual References To Pot That It Was Completely Demystified For Me.