I Can Find My Way From 500

There's A Constant Conflict, Really, Within Me. As Much As I Really Enjoy What I Do At Home... I Play On My Own Little Soccer Team And I've Been Taking Part In The Community And Living The Life Of Any Ordinary Guy, I Always Find Myself Wistful And Enveloped In A Feeling I Can't Really Get Out Of My System.

I Like To Make My Voice Sound Like A Piece Of Tin That's Been Stuck On The Side Of A Chair, Lifted Up As Far As It Would Go And Then Let To Spring - "doooiiinng." I Like To Make It Into A Piece Of Metal From Time To Time And I Can Do It, Both With The Movements In My Throat And With, Uh, My Little Toys... So I Like To Take It Beyond Just A Voice, More Into The Realms Of A Weapon.

I'm Not A Sad Old Hippie - I'm A Joyous Old Hippie.

Little Drops Of Rain Whisper Of The Pain Tears Of Love Lost In The Days Gone By.

So For A Long Time I Closed My Eyes To The Possibility Of America Having A White Voice.