I Don't Mind Looking To The Camera

If You Could Drink Dreams Like The Irish Streams Then The World Would Be High As The Mountain Of Morn In The Pool They Told Us The Story How The English Divided The Land.

The World Went Mad And Used Us As An Excuse.

Nobody Controls Me. I'm Uncontrollable. The Only One Who Can Control Me Is Me, And Even That's Barely Possible.

At The (record Company) Meeting Paul Just Kept Mithering On About What We Were Going To Do, So In The End I Just Said, 'i Think You're Daft. I Want A Divorce.'

The Dream Is Over. I Gotta Get Down To Reality. The Good Old Days Is Garbage.