There's nightingales calling, shooting stars falling, like jewels in the rain.

October's gold is dim — the forests rot, The weary rain falls ceaseless, while the day Is wrapped in damp.

That's what music is for me. It's a place to go to.

There's nightingales calling, shooting stars falling, like jewels in the rain.

I don't know what I want, but I know what I don't want: I don't want to just repeat myself.

I don't know where emotion emanates from exactly. I'm full of it, that's all I know.

I guess I'm just a heart-on-sleeve type of human being.