Everyone Is Doing Forensics.

Rain Slowly Slides Down The Glass As If The Night Is Crying.

We Create Our Own Worlds. We Destroy Our Own Worlds. It Is That Simple.

Leaves Covered Pavement Like Soggy Cereal.

My Fans Want Me To Talk To Them. And Even If They Want To Be Critical, I Want To Hear What They've Got To Say.

Night Fell Clean And Cold In Dublin, And Wind Moaned Beyond My Room As If A Million Pipes Played The Air.