I Look Away At Car Crashes, And

I Was Smart Enough To Know It Would Probably Make Me A Salable Item For The Paparazzi. I Knew I'd Have To Move To A Home That Had A Gate. But That Pearl Of Possibility That Lives In Your Heart When You Meet Somebody You Want To Know More About Has Such A Different Molecular Density Than Everything Else That You Have To Pursue It.

If I Wake Up In The Morning And I Don't Want To Get You A Coffee Or If I Don't See You For A Week And I Don't Want To Go Figure Out Something To Fedex You, Then We've Got A Problem. You Can Fake The Words I Miss You, But You Can't Fake Getting Someone A Book.

I Have These Accidents, These Mistakes, These Self-inflicted Wounds, And Then I Tear My Head To Shreds About It For Days.

The Tweets Are Getting Shorter, But The Songs Are Still 4 Minutes Long. You're Coming Up With 140-character Zingers, And The Song Is Still 4 Minutes Long…i Realized About A Year Ago That I Couldn't Have A Complete Thought Anymore. And I Was A Tweetaholic. I Had Four Million Twitter Followers, And I Was Always Writing On It. And I Stopped Using Twitter As An Outlet And I Started Using Twitter As The Instrument To Riff On, And It Started To Make My Mind Smaller And Smaller And Smaller. And I Couldn't Write A Song.

When You're Just Open But Not Honest, Then You Start Free-associating Garbage.