My Life Came Down To Being A

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.

Inside Your Own Self Pity There You Swim, In Sinking Down To Drown Her Voice Still Haunts You, And Only With Your Laughter Can You Win.

I Still Believe In The Power Of The Word, That Words Inspire.

I Live In A Box Of Paints I'm Frightened By The Devil And I'm Drawn To Those Ones That Ain't Afraid

They Paved Paradise And Put Up A Parkin Lot With A Pink Hotel, A Boutique, And A Swingin' Hot Spot Don't It Always Seem To Go That You Don't Know What You Got Till It's Gone