As you get older, the questions come down to about two or three. How long? And what do I do with the time I've got left?

It makes me sad when I see artists who come alive when they go onstage, because, gee, I really come alive when I'm home.

Once I've written something it does tend to run away from me. I don't seem to have any part of it - it's no longer my piece of writing.

Keep your 'lectric eye on me babe Put your ray gun to my head Press your space face close to mine, love Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah!

I had a fantasy that i'd drift up to Scotland and spend my life as a faux bodhisattua.

I'm well past the age where I'm acceptable. You get to a certain age and you are forbidden access. You're not going to get the kind of coverage that you would like in music magazines, you're not going to get played on radio and you're not going to get played on television. I have to survive on word of mouth.

Of course, we found out later Syd Barrett had mental problems. But there was something so otherworldly about him. He was hovering, like, six inches above the ground.