Imprisoned In A Cage Of Sound, Even

And Now, Dear Lord, I Cannot Wait Because I Have A Luncheon Date.

On Out Deathbeds We're Not Going To Regret All The Work We Didn't Do. We're Going To Regret All The Sex We Didn't Have!

Childhood Is Measured Out By Sounds And Smells And Sights, Before The Dark Hour Of Reason Grows.

It's Strange That Those We Miss The Most Are Those We Take For Granted.

Old Men Who Never Cheated, Never Doubted, Communicated Monthly, Sit And Stare At The New Suburb Stretched Beyond The Run-way Where A Young Man Lands Hatless From The Air.