Don't 'honey' Me In That Southern-fried Twang.

God Is Dead And I Am His Replacement.

Love Without Trust? It's Not Love At All.

... A Man's Plans Are Meant To Be Changed For A Beautiful Woman.

Love Wasn't The Soft, Silky Words The Poets Spoke Of. Love,with It's Twin Edges, Was The One Factor That Weakened So Many Women, That Pushed Them To Compromised Their Own Wants, Their Own Needs For The Needs And Wants Of Another.

Fine, You Do That, And You Tell Them That At The Very First Opportunity, I'm Coming Down There And Killing All Of Them. Mass Murder. And After They're All Dead, I'm Going To Kick The Bodies Around, Dance On Top Of Them, And Sing A Happy Song. No Jury Will Convict Me.