I Am This Fiery Snail Crawling Home.

I'll Use The Knives For Spreading Jam, And The Gas To Warm My Greying Love.

Those Who Escape Hell However Never Talk About It And Nothing Much Bothers Them After That

I Remember When Each 4th Lot Was Vacant And Overgrown, And The Landlord Only Go This Rent When You Had It, And Each Day Was Clear And Good And Each Moment Was Full Of Promise.

Bad Writing's Like Bad Women: There's Just Not Much You Can Do About It

They Laughed. Things Were Funny. They Weren't Afraid To Care. There Was No Sense To Life, To The Structure Of Things.