I'd Had A Rough Childhood.

There Was This Mountain Village In Russia Where My Music Was Getting In On Some German Radio Station. I Remember This Because Music Used To Get Up To Saskatchewan From Texas. Late At Night After The Local Station Closed Down.

At The Point Where I'm Trying To Force Something And It's Not Happening, And I'm Getting Frustrated With, Say, Writing A Poem, I Can Go And Pick Up The Brushes And Start Painting. At The Point Where The Painting Seems To Not Be Going Anywhere, I Go And Pick Up The Guitar.

I Am As Constant As A Northern Star

I Don't Understand Why Europeans And South Americans Can Take More Sophistication. Why Is It That Americans Need To Hear Their Happiness Major And Their Tragedy Minor, And As Jazzy As They Can Handle Is A Seventh Chord? Are They Not Experiencing Complex Emotions?

I Wish I Had A River I Could Skate Away On?