My idea of paradise is that period just before the sun rises and I’m at home painting or writing songs and everything is flowing. I pray that the sun… - Pete Doherty

When she wakes up in the morning She writes down all her dreams Reads like the Book of Revelations Or the Beano or the unabridged Ulysses Oh, I really wanna know So tell me, Where does all the money go? Where does all the money go? Straight, straight up her nose

The main instinct a lot of the time is to masquerade and hide the truth at all times. Whereas in reality what happens in songs is laying bare the truth. So a lot of time it's fighting that instinct, and the songs become almost confessional. They can also be quite condescending to myself, almost like I'm putting myself down.

I knew she wasn't English Because she spoke it far too well The grammar was goodly, the verbs as they should be And the slang was bang on the bell So as the language barrier clanged and banged I couldn't hear--hear or see England, London, and Bow Crumbled into the sea.