Loafe with me on the grass-loose the stop from your throat; Not words, not music or rhyme I want-not custom or lecture, not even the best; Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice. Walt Whitman
I write all year, and at the end of the year I put an album out. And if sucks, it sucks, and if it's good, it's good. I just let it lay where it lays. It doesn't stop from doing another one next year. Toby Keith