Once I Went Into Songwriting, I Figured

The Ghosts Race Towards The Light, You Can Almost Hear The Heavy Breathing Spirits, All Determined To Get Somewhere. New Orleans, Unlike A Lot Of Places You Go Back To And That Don't Have The Magic Anymore, Still Has Got It. Night Can Swallow You Up, Yet None Of It Touches You. You Can't See It, But You Know It's Here. Somebody's Always Sinking.

People Have A Hard Time Accepting Anything That Overwhelms Them.

Art Is A Never-ending Dance Of Illusions.

Ain't Nothing Too Discreet About The Disease Of Conceit.

Don't Matter How Much Money You Got, There's Only Two Kinds Of People: There's Saved People And There's Lost People.