And I sing and sing of awful things The pleasure that my sadness brings.

If I could act like This was my real life, And not some cage where I've been placed, Well then, I could tell you The truth like I used to And not be afraid of sounding fake.

And the sad act like lepers They stick to the shadows They long to ring bells of warning To tell of their coming So that the pure can shut their doors.

They say they don't know when but a day is gonna come. When there won't be a moon and there won't be a sun. It will just go black. It will just go back to the way it was before.

I've given up trying to understand what people think about me.

I believe that vinyl will outlast CDs.

As long as I can buy records and books and maybe some clothes, I'm pretty stoked. I don't need a yacht or anything.