And When You're Poor, You

I Can Only Sing Songs My Way. I Don't Know Any Other Way.

You Can Be Up To Your Boobies In White Satin, With Gardenias In Your Hair And No Sugar Cane For Miles, But You Can Still Be Working On A Plantation.

Lust May Be In The Heart, Though It Be Not Seen By Others; As Guests May Be In The House, Though They Look Not Out At The Windows.

I Can't Stand To Sing The Same Song The Same Way Two Nights In Succession, Let Alone Two Years Or Ten Years.

I Don't Think I'm Singing. I Feel Like I'm Playing A Horn...what Comes Out Is What I Feel.