When you kill somebody’s little sister with a missile, he’s going to hate you forever. And the next generation will hate you even more.
Gypsies at home watching Jerry Falwell on TV, might mean something to you, it ain’t nothing to me.
Some days are diamonds, some days are rocks. Some doors are opened, some roads are blocked. Sundowns are golden, then fade away. And if I never do nothing, I’ll get you back someday.
There goes your freedom of choice, there goes the last human voice.
If you stretch your imagination, I’ll tell you all a tale, about a time when everything wasn’t up for sale.
My mama was a rocker way back in fifty-three, buys them old records that they sell on TV.
I had the radio on, I was driving. Trees flew by, me and Del were singing, Little Runaway, I was flying.
Every verse a diamond, every chorus gold, the sound was my salvation. It was only everything, before money became king.
Gonna wind it up on my guitar. Gonna make that silver sing.
My sister got lucky, married a yuppie, and took him for all he was worth. Now she’s a swinger dating a singer, I can’t decide which is worse.
Take back your insurance, baby, nothing is guaranteed. Take back your acid rain, let your TV bleed.
There was no use pretending, no magic left to hear, all the music gave me was a craving for lite beer.
There was rock and roll across the dial, when I think of her it makes me smile.
Eddie waited ’til he finished high school, he went to Hollywood, got a tattoo.
Oh yeah, alright, take it easy baby, make it last all night. She was an American Girl.
I’m not any happier anywhere than when I’m in the studio. I’m over the moon about it. It keeps me young, it keeps me feeling like I have some purpose.
The truth is that if you play on TV there is always a sponsor. There is no way around it. I’ve already passed on so much money I don’t worry about it anymore.
I’m more interested in what I’m going to leave behind me than in making a big hit record. I’ve refined what I do for a long time. If getting better at it means it goes over the heads of those who only wanted to party, then so be it.
I want to be successful. Not just money. Just making a successful record and a successful show. I could feel successful without selling a million records.
I’m old enough to have lived in a country where, if you were willing to work hard, you could have a fairly nice life. You could support your family, and even get a shot at owning your own home. But you never thought you’d get a swimming pool. Now culture has hypnotised people into thinking they’re really nothing if they’re not wealthy and a Kardashian.
You will never be told when the next bit of education is coming or where it’s coming from or who the teacher will be. That information will only reveal itself after the fact. All that you can do is leave a little room there for the next lesson to come through. Someone will be carrying it. You just leave the door open a crack.