Touch me, hold me. How my open arms ache! Try to fall for me. - Kate Bush

The soul cries out Hear a woman singing Don't want your bullshit, yeah Just want your sexuality. Don't want excuses, yeah Write me your poetry in motion Write it just for me, yeah And sign it with a kiss.

So much for all the prayers you've learned. They are no help to basic needs. And all the worlds they've shown you Just make you even greedier.

Artists shouldn't be made famous. You know... they're just ... as important as... um doctors, and priests ... or maybe not as important sometimes, and yet they have this huge aura of almost god-like quality about them, just because their craft makes a lot of money. And at the same time it is a forced importance — you know, football stars and theatre stars — It is man-made so the press can feed off it.