If You Believe You're A Poet, Then

I Feel I Want To Be Wise With White Hair In A Tall Library In A Deep Chair By A Fireplace.

If You Believe You're A Poet, Then You're Saved.

It's Just That I See Love As Odd As Wearing Shoes-- I Never Wanted To Marry A Girl Who Was Like My Mother And Ingrid Bergman Was Always Impossible

I Think Of New York City Lost In Stars Forgotten As A Blue Haired Pet Of Childhood Love Tonight The Night Is Full.

Anyway, I Lived On The Streets And Did Pretty Good Until I Got Caught Stealing, What Was It? I Kicked In A Restaurant Window, Went In And Took All The Food That I Wanted, And While Coming Out I Was Grabbed.