I Was Born To Hustle Roses Down

In The Morning It Was Morning And I Was Still Alive.

I Would Certainly End Up Forever Crying The Blues Into A Coffee Cup In A Park For Old Men Playing Chess Or Silly Games Of Some Sort.

I Was Drawn To All The Wrong Things: I Liked To Drink, I Was Lazy, I Didn't Have A God, Politics, Ideas, Ideals.

There Is Moss On The Walls And The Stain Of Thought And Failure And Waiting

Erections, Ejaculations,exhibitions And General Tales Of Ordinary Madness.