Remember when you’re out there trying to heal the sick, that you must always first forgive them.
They asked me for some collateral and I pulled down my pants.
Proud to steal her anything she sees, but you will wind up peeking through her key hole down upon your knees.
Since my feet are now fast and point away from the past, I’ll bid farewell and be down the line.
I make my stand and remain as I am, and bid farewell and not give a damn.
In harmony with cosmic sea, true love needs no company. It can cure the soul, it can make it whole, if dogs run free.
The woman I love she got a prize fighter nose, cauliflower ears and a run in her hose.
She speaks with a stutter and she and she walks with a hop. I don’t know why I love her, but I just can’t stop.
That’s another way of writing a song, of course. Just talking to somebody that ain’t there. That’s the best way. That’s the truest way. Then it just becomes a question of how heroic your speech is. To me, it’s something to strive after.
Michelangelo indeed could have carved out your features.
With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks, you’ve been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books.
Well the Lone Ranger and Tonto, they are riding down the line fixing everybody’s troubles, everybody except mine.
Well the book of Leviticus and Deuteronomy, the law of the jungle and the sea are your only teachers.
Shakespeare, he’s in the alley with his pointed shoes and his bells, speaking to some French girl who says she knows me well.
Every day your memory grows dimmer – it doesn’t haunt me like it did before.
You shouldn’t let other people get your kicks for you.
Yesterday is just a memory.
For them that think death’s honesty won’t fall upon them naturally life sometimes must get lonely.
For whose sake did you live, for whose sake did you die? Forgive me, baby, for what I didn’t do.
She can play my guitar note for note, she likes to stick her tongue down my throat.