In a church of my own we're perfect together I recognize you in the stained glass.

I think the thing with fame is that everybody claims they all want your best. They all know what's good for you and you end up ragged, empty and tired. I did. I felt so empty. Everybody tried to grab a piece of me and everybody tried to push me into a corner.

I keep going back as if I'm looking for something I have lost. Back to the motherland, sisterland, fatherland. Back to the beacon, the breast, the smell and taste of the breeze, and the singing of the rain.

It's not that I'm broken, and it isn't that I bleed. But when you pulled the stars from the heavens, it got so hard to see.

And when somebody knows you well, well there's no comfort like that. And when somebody needs you, well there's no drug like that.

Nothing falls like London Rain Nothing heals me like you do

You're the drug that works.