Fear / A Motor, / Pumps Me

Our Eyes Are Full Of Terrible Confessions.

I Have Been Cut In Two.

Being Sixteen In The Pants I Died Full Of Questions

But Even In A Telephone Booth Evil Can Seep Out Of The Receiver And We Must Cover It With A Mattress, And Then Tear It From Its Roots And Bury It, Bury It.

Perhaps I Am No One. True, I Have A Body And I Cannot Escape From It. I Would Like To Fly Out Of My Head, But That Is Out Of The Question.