I Paint My Joy And

My Childhood Was Very Difficult. I Had Every Childhood Disease And Then Some, But My Parents Didnt Mollycoddle Me. They Left Me To Fight Those Battles On My Own. I Guess That Was Very Canadian, Very Stoic. But Its Good. I Had To Become A Warrior. I Had To Give Up Hope And Find A Substitute For Hope That Would Be Far More Stable.

The Hollywood Sirens Are Shrieking, While Down Some Search Lit Alley Runs Some Lost Belief.

All Romantics Meet The Same Fate Some Day. Drunk And Cynical And Boring Someone In Some Dark Cafe.

They Won't Give Peace A Chance, That's Just A Dream Some Of Us Had

At The Point Where I'm Trying To Force Something And It's Not Happening, And I'm Getting Frustrated With, Say, Writing A Poem, I Can Go And Pick Up The Brushes And Start Painting. At The Point Where The Painting Seems To Not Be Going Anywhere, I Go And Pick Up The Guitar.