I'm Unable To Really Write The Kind

Polly Jean, I Love You. I Love The Texture Of Your Skin, The Taste Of Your Saliva, The Softness Of Your Ears. I Love Every Inch And Every Part Of Your Entire Body. From Your Toes And The Beautifully Curved Arches Of Your Feet, To The Exceptional Shade And Warmth Of Your Dark Hair. I Need You In My Life, I Hope You Need Me Too.

I Don't Particularly Believe All Love Is Doomed. But I Guess, One Is Usually Kinda Suffering From Some Aborted Love Affair Or Association, Rather Than Being At The Peak Of One. I Think It's Fairly Obvious That A Lot More Suffering Goes On In The Name Of Love Than The Little Happiness You Can Squeeze Out Of It.

The Love Song Must Be Born Into The Realm Of The Irrational, Absurd, The Distracted, The Melancholic, The Obsessive, The Insane For The Love Song Is The Noise Of Love Itself And Love Is, Of Course, A Form Of Madness.

I Always Thought My Records Were Number One; It's Just The Charts Didn't Think So.

I Don't Have Any Authority To Talk About The Domestic Policies Of America. But As An Outsider, I Am Mystified By The Fact That You Are Encouraged To Buy A Gun, But If You Use It For The Purpose That It Is Expressly Designed For, You Get The Death Penalty. That Aspect Of America Is Kind Of Mystifying.