I Turned Myself To Face Me, But

I'll Paint You Moments Of Gold, I'll Spin You Valentine Evenings.

All Art Is Unstable. Its Meaning Is Not Necessarily That Implied By The Author. There Is No Authoritative Voice. There Are Only Multiple Readings.

I'm Not Sure That An Art Career Would Have Any Benefit For Me; I'm Not Sure It's What I Want. I Don't Think I Want To Be A Designer-rock Artist.

I Suspect That Dreams Are An Integral Part Of Existence, With Far More Use For Us Than We've Made Of Them...the Fine Line Between The Dream State And Reality Is At Times, For Me, Quite Grey.

In Fact, In Europe, I'm More Kind Of This Bloke What Writes Lots Of Stuff.