The little blonde in my fourth grade class. By the end of the sixth grade I had ridden my bike by her house thousands of times. Oh, I haven't forgotten her name. I just don't want to embarrass her. I would probably ride by her house tomorrow but she lives in another town now.
Ask my therapists, they'll tell you. I will tell anybody anything. I'm not bragging. It's just the way I'm wired. What I can't do is tell you about anyone else. My stories are all about the ones I've loved. The ones I love. Maybe that's why I sing about rain, angels, lust, heartbeats.