I got me a hit record and I ain’t never made a cent from it.

His hug is his beer in a frosted mug.

I don’t apologize that I don’t sing through my nose.

Sitting around the house playing the wife and mother is driving me crazy.

I thought I loved him but he’s dull.

I’ll die before I go all the way pop.

That applause don’t help you any when you’re laying in that bed at night being totally ignored.

I’ll screw the boots off of you.

I’ve become a captive of my own ambitions.

They said I would be the Hemingway of music. I would have my own style.

I got to change my firecracker!

Most lyrics don’t have any balls.

It’s like things are creeping on me and I just want to lay low.

I go to church on Sundays, the vows I make. I break them on Monday.

I don’t give a goddamn!

I’m gonna walk a little bit of dog.

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