Government Wars Aren't My Wars; They've Got

The Art Of Writing Is To Explain The Complications Of The Human Soul With The Simplicity That Can Be Universally Understood.

All I'm Out For Is A Good Time - All The Rest Is Propaganda.

I'm Me And Nobody Else; And Whatever People Think I Am Or Say I Am, That's What I'm Not, Because They Don't Know A Bloody Thing About Me.

Walking The Streets On Winter Nights Kept Him Warm, Despite The Cold Nocturnal Passions Of Uprising Winds. His Footsteps Led Between Trade-marked Houses, Two Up And Two Down, With Digital Chimneys Like Pigs' Tits On The Rooftops Sending Up Heat And Smoke Into The Cold Trough Of A Windy Sky. Stars Hid Like Snipers, Taking Aim Now And Again When Clouds Gave Them A Loophole. Winter Was An Easy Time For Him To Hide His Secrets, For Each Dark Street Patted His Shoulder And Became A Friend, And The Gaseous Eye Of Each Lamp Glowed Unwinking As He Passed.

Well, It's A Good Life And A Good World, All Said And Done, If You Don't Weaken.