One of these days I'll find a way / I'll rise above the throng / They'll be amazed at what they see / One of these days someone will say / I knew it all along / One of these days, that's what will be
There is no god, or love, just time / Saying "Do what you will. Nothing's real today" / We are fleeting numbers, and images / Like the liquid crystal digital readout / Floating on the sea of grey.
Come to your senses, defenses are not the way to go / And you know, or at least you knew / Everything's strange, you've changed and I don't know what to do / To get through
In one week I'll be thirty. Three-zero. Older than my Dad was when I was born. Older than Napoleon was when he ... did something that was probably extremely impressive at the time – I'm not a historian. I'm a composer. Sorry, a "promising young composer." I should have kids of my own by now, a career, but instead I've been "promising" for so long I'm afraid I'm starting to break the fucking promise.
6 AM. The sky glows. Somewhere a bird chirps. I want to shoot it.
Break of day, the dawn is here / Johnny's up and pacing / Compromise or persevere? / His mind is racing / Johnny has no guide / Johnny wants to hide / Can he make his mark, if he gives up his spark? / Johnny can't decide
I want to write music. I want to sit down right now at the piano, and write a song that people will listen to and remember. And do the same thing every morning for the rest of my life.
This is a car that allows you to adjust the temperature of your ass.
Chubstitute (a name for a fat substitute)
I'm not mad that you got mad when I got mad when you said I should go drop dead.
There's only us, there's only this / Forget regret, or life is yours to miss / No other road, no other way / No day but today!
Give into love or live in fear
Will I lose my dignity? Will someone care? Will I wake tomorrow from this nightmare?
Let's open up a restaurant in Santa Fe / Oh, sunny Santa Fe would be nice / We'll open up a restaurant in Santa Fe / And leave this to the roaches and mice
I think they meant it when they said you can't buy love, but now I know you can rent it, a new lease you are my love!
Life's too short, babe, time's a-flying. I'm looking for baggage that goes with mine.
The opposite of war isn't peace... It's creation!
I'd be happy to die for a taste of what Angel had... Someone to live for... Unafraid to say 'I love you!'
You'll never share real love until you love yourself.
I just came to say goodbye love, goodbye love, goodbye.
I don't own emotion, I rent!
Dying in America / At the end of the millennium / We're dying in America / To come into our own / And when you're dying in America / At the end of the millennium / You're not alone