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My Whole Life At A Certain Point Was Studio, Hotel, Stage, Hotel, Stage, Studio, Stage, Hotel, Studio, Stage. I Was Expressing Everything From My Past, Everything That I Had Experienced Prior To That Studio Stage Time, And It Was Like You Have To Go Back To The Well, In Order To Give Someone Something To Drink. I Felt Like A Cistern, Dried Up And Like There Was Nothing More. And It Was So Beautiful.

That Strong Mother Doesn't Tell Her Cub, Son, Stay Weak So The Wolves Can Get You. She Says, Toughen Up, This Is Reality We Are Living In.

Loving You Is Like A Song I Replay Every 3 Minutes And 30 Seconds Of Every Day.

Everyday Is Another Chance To Get Things Right.

Nobody's Going To Force Me To Do Something Against My Will. What Do I Owe Anybody That I Should Submit My Will To Them?