I Don't Have Much In The Way

Our Blessed Radio. It Gives Us Eyes And Ears Out Into The World. We Listen To The German Station Only For Good Music. And We Listen To The Bbc For Hope.

Love, What Is Love? I Don't Think You Can Really Put It Into Words. Love Is Understanding Someone, Caring For Him, Sharing His Joys And Sorrows. This Eventually Includes Physical Love. You've Shared Something, Given Something Away And Received Something In Return, Whether Or Not You're Married, Whether Or Not You Have A Baby. Losing Your Virtue Doesn't Matter, As Long As You Know That For As Long As You Live You'll Have Someone At Your Side Who Understands You, And Who Doesn't Have To Be Shared With Anyone Else!

Sleep Makes The Silence And The Terrible Fear Go By More Quickly, Helps Pass The Time, Since It's Impossible To Kill.

I Can Recapture Everything When I Write, My Thoughts, My Ideals And My Fantasies.

I Feel The Suffering Of Millions. And Yet, When I Look Up At The Sky, I Somehow Feel That Every-thing Will Change For The Better, That This Cruelty Too Shall End, That Peace And Tranquility Will Return Once More.