I Write Songs From The Point Of

It's A Wonderful Life If You Can Find It.

My Biggest Fear Is Losing Memory Because Memory Is What We Are. Your Very Soul And Your Very Reason To Be Alive Is Tied Up In Memory.

When I’m Singing “deanna,” For Example, Which I Sing Pretty Much Every Night, It Brings Forward A Kind Of Imagined, Romanticized Lie About This Particular Person, Which I Find Really Comforting And Exciting To Sing About.

My Records Are Basically A Litany Of Complaints Against The World, And I'm Quite Like That In Real Life As Well.

And I Wish That I Was Made Of Stone So That I Would Not Have To See A Beauty Impossible To Define A Beauty Impossible To Believe A Beauty Impossible To Endure The Blood Imparted In Little Sips The Smell Of You Still On My Hands As I Bring The Cup Up To My Lips No God Up In The Sky No Devil Beneath The Sea Could Do The Job That You Did, Baby Of Bringing Me To My Knees