Crawling on your knees through the desert sand. Your dress is torn and blood on your hand. The Southern Cross, a giant tower of light. Your silhouett… - Ike Moriz

As the number plates drift by, my restless scanning eyes search for you.

You’ve taught me to blend in, wearing your fake cobra skin; It fits so tight, I can’t breathe in, but you make me hang in. Oh, every time and time again, you aim to stop my fire with paraffin. And while I play the mandolin, you’re dancing with Rumpelstiltskin; Oh, I can hold my breath for longer than you think.

It’s always just about the music. I’ve got to be true to who I am. Music is my religion. My way of communicating. When I write a song, I feel like the music is coming through me. It’s a beautiful experience to write a song that becomes something that has an influence on other peoples’ lives."