I No Longer Buy Papers Or Tabloids

My Voice Went Recently, Never Happened Before, Off Like A Tap. I Had To Sit In Silence For Nine Days, Chalkboard Around My Neck. Like An Old-school Mime. Like A Kid In The Naughty Corner. Like A Victorian Mute.

I'd Love To Be An Artist Always, But If No One Wants Me, I'd Love To Write Songs For Other People, Be A Manager, Nurture New Talent.

I Think It's Shameful When You Sell Out. It Depends What Kind Of Artist You Wanna Be, But I Don't Want My Name Anywhere Near Another Brand.

In My Hometown Memories Are Fresh.

Regrets And Mistakes, They're Memories Made