If I Don't Terrorize, I'm Not Pop.

And For So Long, I Had Thought If I Was Going To Write A Song, Or Get "into" Something, I Had To At Least Smoke A Joint Or Something. And That Didn't Work Anymore. Once I Was Fairly Well Cleaned Out, Even A Little Bit Of A Drug Getting Into My Work Threw Me Off Kilter.

Onstage I've Been Hit By A Grapefruit, Beercans, Eggs, Spit, Money, Cigarette Butts, Mandies, Quaaludes, Joints, Bras, Panties, And A Fist.

I Was Who I Was In High School In Accordance With The Rules Of Conduct For A Normal Person, Like Obeying Your Mom And Dad. Then I Got Out Of High School And Moved Out Of The House, And I Just Started, For Lack Of A Better Term, Running Free.

I Don't Get My Bliss By Listening Over And Over To People In The Street Thinking, "boy, Is It That Good?" Even Though Every Time I Hear It That's What I Think. But I Get It In Human Situations. There Is This Little Voice That Is Going, "the Reason You're Able To Enjoy Your Life Now Is That You Made It In Rock'n'roll And People Are Giving You Free Visas All Over The Place. Dude, You Are Being Spoiled".

What Do You Do With A Lifetime Of Work? Face It In The Morning.