I see a woman in the night with a baby in her hand, under an old street light near a garbage can.

I wanted to be a skinny little ballerina but I was a voluptuous little Italian girl whose dad had meatballs on the table every night.

Got to fight to control the violent side, every day and night.

Sailing heart-ships through broken harbors out on the waves of the night, still the searcher must ride the dark horse racing alone in his fright.

I got in trouble with the police, and that was a rude awakening. That was it. I'd seen the bottom of the pit, and it was time to scrape myself out of it.

I used to get really defensive about the word 'depressed' back in the day because my mum was clinically ill - fucking hell, mate, if you'd seen depression, you'd know it. And I feel like that a bit about trauma - I don't want to gatekeep trauma, but ... I was really traumatised.