Find Me Now. Before Someone Else Does.

For A Certain Kind Of Person, Love Begins From Something Tiny Or Silly. From Something Like That Or It Doesnt Begin At All.

How Many Sundays - How Many Hundreds Of Sundays Like This - Lay Ahead Of Me? “quiet, Peaceful, And Lonely,” I Said Aloud To Myself. On Sundays, I Didn't Wind My Spring.

Her Smile Steps Offstage For A Moment, Then Does An Encore, All While I'm Dealing With My Blushing Face.

My Point Is: In This Whole Wide World The Only Person You Can Depend On Is You.

I Had My Jazz Club And I Had Enough Money. So I Didn't Have To Write For My Living.