Inside me there is a fat man dying to get out.
Love is getting to be cynical, passion's just physical.
My dad sent Frank Sinatra a dollar bill to autograph, and when it came back, signed, he had it framed: it was always up on the wall in whatever flat we were in.
We know we are falling from grace, millennium.
All your friends think you're satisfied, but they can't see your soul, no, no, no.
I'm quite open to the fact that I might be a tinfoil-hat freak