You talked me into the game of chance. It was '39, before the music started, When you walked up to me and you said, "Hey, heads we dance." - Kate Bush

See how the child reaches out instinctively To feel how fire will feel. See how the man reaches out instinctively For what he cannot have. The pull and the push of it all.

Who knows who wrote that song of summer, That blackbirds sing at dusk, This is a song of colour, Where sands sing in crimson, red and rust, Then climb into bed and turn to dust.

Oh, come on, you've got to use your flow. You know what it's like, and you know you want to go. Don't drive too slowly. Don't put your blues where your shoes should be. Don't put your foot on the heartbrake.'''