I Realize I Don't Do A Very

Walkin' Through The Leaves Fallin' From The Trees, Feelin' Like A Stranger Nobody Sees.

Ah, Current Music. What Would That Be? Ah, Really, A Lot Of It Sounds Defective To Me. It Makes Me Restless.

Every Nerve In My Body Is So Vacant And Numb/i Can't Even Remember What It Was I Came Here To Get Away From/don't Even Hear A Murmur Of A Prayer/it's Not Dark Yet, But It's Getting There.

I Can't See Myself Singing The Same Song Twice In A Row. That's Terrible.

I Define Nothing. Not Beauty, Not Patriotism. I Take Each Thing As It Is, Without Prior Rules About What It Should Be.