As New Dawns Go, This One Is

I Worry Sometimes That I'm A Bit Moralistic; Always Writing About Men Who Are Learning To Grow Up, Not Be So Self-absorbed, Selfish Or Badly Behaved. I Wonder If That's Dull And Liberal And Wimpy? I Should Probably Write Something That Celebrates Wickedness.

You Feel A Little Bit Lost Right Now About What To Do With Your Life, A Bit Rudderless And Oarless And Aimless But That's Okay That's Alright Because We're All Meant To Be Like That At Twenty-four.

She Made You Decent, And In Return You Made Her So Happy

If You're My Friend I Should Be Able To Talk To You But I Can't, And If I Can't Talk To You, Well, What Is The Point Of You? Of Us?

The True Writer, The Born Writer, Will Scribble Words On Scraps Of Litter, The Back Of A Bus Tickets, On The Wall Of A Cell.