There’s room in the world for one historical folk-rock singer to make a decent living, and I happen to be it.

You can tell sometimes when someone wants to say something. An air wave goes bendy and that pause gets bigger and bigger.

Don’t bother asking for explanation, she’ll just tell you that she came, in the year of the cat.

I know there’s a big bad world out there, but I rarely come across it.

We measure our days out in steps of uncertainty not turning to see how far we’ve come. And peer down the highway from here to eternity and reach out for love on the run.

You reach out your hand, but you’re all alone, in those time passages.

Looking so cool, his greed is hard to conceal, he’s fresh out of law school, you gave him a license to steal.

She doesn’t give you time for questions as she locks up your arms in hers. And you follow till your sense of direction completely disappears.

Words are my friends.

Look to the past and remember no empire rises that sooner or later won’t fall.