My mother used to go out on her own, and I used to have to keep a look out for my stepfather coming home.
Your home is regarded as a model home, your life as a model life. But all this splendor, and you along with it... it's just as though it were built upon a shifting quagmire. A moment may come, a word can be spoken, and both you and all this splendor will collapse.
I feel there must be an enormous amount of really talented songwriters out there who can't sing.

