We Live A Protracted Adolescence. At Some

We Satisfy Our Endless Needs And Justify Our Bloody Deeds In The Name Of Destiny And In The Name Of God.

Some Records With Drum Machines On Them Sound Phony And Plastic. It All Depends On How You Use The Tools.

So Much Time Weeping And Wailing And Shaking Our Fists, Creating Enemies That Really Don't Exist.

What The Head Makes Cloudy The Heart Makes Clear

I Could Have Played More Complex Stuff. I Could Have Been A Busier Player. But That's Not What I Wanted To Do. I Played What I Wanted To Play.