Oh look at how she listens She says nothing of what she thinks She just goes stumbling through her memories Staring out on to Grey Street

What in the world would I sing for if I had it all?

I guess, and it may be a flaw, that I think about rhythm more [than anything else]. I'm always wanting to find something unusual. I've started to try and write more traditionally, but for whatever reason, I tend toward trying to find something that sounds more like a pattern to me.

One sweet world Around this star is spinning One sweet world And in her breath I'm swimming And here we will rest in peace

Good music is good music, and everything else can go to hell.

I can't believe that we would lie in our graves wondering if we had spent our living days well. I can't believe that we would lie in our graves dreaming of things that we might have been.

When I look at how fortunate I've been, being a musician... my response to being overpaid is that I should pay it back to my community in some way.