Ooh, he's here again, The man with the child in his eyes.

Nobody knows about my man. They think he's lost on some horizon. And suddenly I find myself Listening to a man I've never known before, Telling me about the se…

Out on the wiley, windy moors We'd roll and fall in green. You had a temper like my jealousy: Too hot, too greedy. How could you leave me, When I needed to pos…

I hear him, before I go to sleep And focus on the day that's been. I realise he's there, When I turn the light off and turn over.

I think innocence is something that adults project upon children that's not really there.

A little while ago, not much more than a few days ago, I was a child who went about in a world of colors, of hard and tangible forms. Everything was mysterious…

The observer is the observed.