- We live on Morgan Street, just ten feet between. And his mother, I never see her, but her screams and curses, I hear them every day.
- It's four in the morning, the end of December. I'm writing you now just to see if you're better. New York is cold, but I like where I'm living. There's music on Clinton Street all through the evening.
- A small kid stands by the Lincoln Tunnel. He’s selling plastic roses for a buck. The traffic’s backed up to 39th Street. The TV whores are calling the cops out for a suck.
- You live in a fancy apartment, off the Boulevard Saint-Michel, where you keep your Rolling Stones records, and a friend of Sacha Distel, yes you do.
- I put my foot flat down on the floor. I took it as far as I could. I took it down there to Sheridan Street, by the dark wood.
- Workin' so hard like a soldier. Can't afford a thing on TV. Deep in my heart I am warrior. Can't get food for them kids.
- So just pull on your hair. Just pull on your pout. And let's move to the beat, like we know that it's over.
- I'm gonna drive my daddy's Thunderbird. A white rad ride, '66 ('67), so glam it's absurd. I'm gonna put her in the back seat, and drive her 2 ... Tennessee.
- You hardly ever saw Grandaddy down here. He only came to town about twice a year. He'd buy a hundred pounds of yeast and some copper line. Everybody knew that he made moonshine.
- I was looking for a rhyme for the New York Times when I sensed I was not alone. She said do you know how to spell 'audaciously'? I could tell I was in luck.
(I have to admit that I always thought #6 said, "Deep in my heart I abhor you.")