I See Music As Fluid Architecture.

Van Gogh Was Impulsive.

Innocence Is Drowned In Anarchy. The Best Lack Conviction Given Time To Think, And The Worst Are Full Of Passion Without Mercy.

There Was This Mountain Village In Russia Where My Music Was Getting In On Some German Radio Station. I Remember This Because Music Used To Get Up To Saskatchewan From Texas. Late At Night After The Local Station Closed Down.

You've Got To Shake Your Fists At Lightning Now, You've Got To Roar Like Forest Fire You've Got To Spread Your Light Like Blazes All Across The Sky They're Going To Aim The Hoses On You, Show 'em You Won't Expire Not Till You Burn Up Every Passion, Not Even When You Die Come On Now, You've Got To Try, If You're Feeling Contempt, Well Then You Tell It If You're Tired Of The Silent Night, Jesus, Well Then You Yell It Condemned To Wires And Hammers, Strike Every Chord That You Feel That Broken Trees And Elephant Ivories Conceal

I'd Had A Rough Childhood.