Little Drops Of Rain Whisper Of The

I Have No Story. My Story Goes From Day To Day.

Life Isn't Moving Quickly - Time Moves Very Quickly.

I Like To Make My Voice Sound Like A Piece Of Tin That's Been Stuck On The Side Of A Chair, Lifted Up As Far As It Would Go And Then Let To Spring - "doooiiinng." I Like To Make It Into A Piece Of Metal From Time To Time And I Can Do It, Both With The Movements In My Throat And With, Uh, My Little Toys... So I Like To Take It Beyond Just A Voice, More Into The Realms Of A Weapon.

I Think I'm Prone To Panic.

Now I'm A Blithering Oaf Hanging On To The Coatsleeves Of Commerciality.