I'm Home A Lot. Because I Live

It's Still Very Difficult For Me To Rely. Your Weakness, The Blessing Of Your Weakness Is It Forces You Into Friendships. The Things That You Lack, You Look For In Others.

Poverty Breeds Despair. We Know This. Despair Breeds Violence. We Know This. In Turbulent Times, Isn't It Cheaper, And Smarter, To Make Friends Out Of Potential Enemies Than To Defend Yourself Against Them Later?

You Don't Become An 'artist' Unless You've Got Something Missing Somewhere. Blaise Pascal Called It A God-shaped Hole. Everyone's Got One But Some Are Blacker And Wider Than Others. It's A Feeling Of Being Abandoned,cut Adrift In Space And Time-sometimes Following The Loss Of A Loved One. You Can Never Completely Fill That Hole-you Can Try With Songs,family,faith And By Living A Full Life...but When Things Are Silent, You Can Still Hear The Hissing Of What's Missing.

Every Artist Is A Cannibal/every Poet Is A Thief/all Kill For Inspiration/and Then Sing About The Grief.

It's A Privilege To Serve The Poor, To Be Servants Of Noble Africans, But I Better Belong In The Rehearsal Room Or In The Studio With My Band. That's Where I Want To Be And I Still Wake Up In The Morning With Melodies In My Head.