Love Heals All Wounds And Not Just

I Don't Write My Music For Sony. I Write It For The People Who Are Screaming Down The Road Crying To A Full-blast Stereo.

The People Who Raised Me Musically Are My Mother, Who Is A Classically Trained Pianist, And My Stepfather.

The Only Goal Is In The Process. The Process Is The Thing…with Little Flashes Of Light Here And There. Those Are The Gigs, Those Are The Live Shows. But It's The Life In Between—that's All I Got.

There's The Moon Asking To Stay Long Enough For The Clouds To Fly Me Away

I Think I Would Really Lay Down And Die. Music Comes From A Very Primal, Twisted Place. When A Person Sings, Their Body, Their Mouth, Their Eyes, Their Words, Their Voice Says All These Unspeakable Things That You Really Can't Explain But That Mean Something Anyway. People Are Completely Transformed When They Sing; People Look Like That When They Sing Or When They Make Love. But It's A Weird Thing—at The End Of The Night I Feel Strange, Because I Feel I've Told Everybody All My Secrets.