Either you write songs or you don't. And if you do write songs like I do, I think there's a natural desire to want to make records.

I don't really listen to Radiohead. I listened to the albums and they just didn't move me in the way, say, John Prine does. His is just extraordinarily eloquent music.

Envy is the bond between the hopeful and the damned

ashes or diamonds foe or friend we're all equal in the end

When you've done something, certainly if you create a piece of music, you then hear it with fresh ears when you play it for somebody else.

All you touch and all you see is all your life will ever be.

Wish You Were Here So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, Blue skys from pain. Can you tell a green field From a cold steel rail? A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell? And did they get you to trade Your heros for ghosts? Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze? Cold comfort for change? And did you exchange A walk on part in the war For a lead role in a cage? How I wish, how I wish you were here. We're just two lost souls Swimming in a fish bowl, Year after year, Running over the same old ground. What have we found? The same old fears. Wish you were here.