I'd Rather Be Thin Than Famous But

Between Incomprehensible And Incoherent Sits The Madhouse. I Am Not In The Madhouse.

An Awful Realization That I Have Been Fooling Myself All My Life Thinking There Was A Next Thing To Do To Keep The Show Going And Actually I'm Just A Sick Clown And So Is Everybody Else

After All, A Homeless Man Has Reason To Cry, Everything In The World Is Pointed Against Him.

Sweet Life Continues In The Breeze, In The Golden Fields.

Suppose We Suddenly Wake Up And See That What We Thought To Be This And That, Ain't This And That At All?