[Spoken word intro]

A song is a room, however happy or sad, wherein you or I might dwell while either singing it or listening to it. And each song has its own lights, its own wallpaper, its own furniture, and its own doors and windows peculiar to itself

And some are dark jail cells with isolated experience, while others pulsate with sunlight and flowers, and the warm, tender juice of love. Some songs leave one dizzy in their gaudiness, and some are just white and severe, and each is a neverending thing, that I might come back to again and again and again at any chosen time

Take this as a sort of invitation to a sort of housing project, an invitation to visit together some of the rooms that I've created mostly by accident, and together we’ll live in them for two, three or maybe even four minutes at a time