"Constant Craving" (k.d. lang)

As I've written before, I'm usually drawn to a song by the way it sounds.  At least that's the initial appeal.  I can't help myself, though, from wanting to dissect lyrics and figure out what an artist is trying to get across.  (Unless it's something caveman-blunt like: "let's get wasted and shag like rabbits."  Don't get me wrong; that definitely has its place, too.)
I remember watching k.d. lang perform her breakout single "Constant Craving" from the album Ingénue on late night television back in 1992 and being captivated by the sound of her voice: velvety and smooth with just a hint of smoke.  I also was pulled in by the organic, alt-country feel of the song itself, which felt like a natural progression from her tomboy-cowgirl days of the late 80s, when she was trying maybe a little too hard to be Dale Evans, Patsy Cline, Marty Robbins, and Roy Orbison, all rolled into one.
Anyway, my assumption was that, with a title like "Constant Craving," the song was probably an exploration of obsession, not unlike Chris Isaak's "Wicked Game" from a few years before.
But the more I've read about lang over the years, I think I missed the point the first time around.  The song seems to be more inspired by her devotion to Buddhism, exploring the nature of expression and overcoming (or, at the very least, coming to grips with) the need to be validated by others as an artist.
In fact, a fan asked lang via Twitter back in 2013 what the song meant to her.  She responded, "Divine dissatisfaction."
If you Google the phrase "divine dissatisfaction," you find a quote from choreographer/modern dance innovator Martha Graham regarding the nature of art, extracted from fellow choreographer Agnes de Mille's 1991 book, Martha: The Life and Work of Martha Graham.  The setup is, de Mille was lamenting to Graham that she felt some of her best work had been overlooked, whereas something she felt was mediocre at best was garnering a lot of attention: 

"Martha said to me very quietly: 'There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique.  And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost…No artist is pleased.  [There is] no satisfaction whatever at any time.  There is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others'…"

I think that sentiment fits pretty well with lang's lyrics.  
And it makes sense in context: in 1992, lang had been trying to garner mainstream country success for nearly a decade, but she didn't fit the mainstream mold.  So she was in the process of reinventing herself as a pop chanteuse.  It must have been extremely tough to leave behind a body of work and image that she'd worked hard to cultivate for years.
Also, she had doubts about the merits of the song itself.  Her writing partner, Ben Mink, told Mix magazine in 2013 that lang wanted to trash the song early on because she felt it sounded "too commercial."  It wasn't until they changed the key it was in and added touches like the anti-pop, European-sounding accordion that she ultimately felt better about it.