I know that we're being inexorably taken over by the Americans. Without a doubt. I don't mean invaded or anything like that, just taken over. By degrees.

Turning back the pages of my sweet shattered dream, I wonder if she'll ever do the same; And the thing that I call living is just being satisfied With knowing I've got no one left to blame.

You just get the vibes of your surroundings and it rubs off on you.

I'm trying to be entertaining without being mean.

Being mean just for being mean's sake isn't funny.

[The tragedy and its remembrance, fueled by the ballad] The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald ... We are holding our own.