When I was much younger and I, foolishly, still believed in sin, I prayed every-night that I would somehow turn into Tori Amos. Yet, day after day, her voice never came from my own lungs, my eyes remained dark and the piano keys only hurt my fingers. That night I took down my cross and replaced it with her picture, dyed my hair orange and took up piano lessons. 

Tori did indeed, save my soul.