Singing Is A Way Of

I Was Hungry. I Was Cold. But I Was Also Free. Free Not To Get Up In The Morning, Not To Go To Bed At Night, Free To Get Drunk If I Liked, To Dream... To Hope.

Singing Is A Way Of Escaping. It's Another World. I'm No Longer On Earth.

Death Is The Beginning Of Something.

I'm The Only One Who Still Believes In Santa Claus!

I'm Sure That I've Already Been Dead.