Innocence Is Drowned In Anarchy. The Best

My Heart Is Broken In The Face Of The Stupidity Of My Species.

That's One Thing That's Always, Like, Been A Difference Between, Like, The Performing Arts, And Being A Painter, You Know. A Painter Does A Painting, And He Paints It, And That's It, You Know. He Has The Joy Of Creating It, It Hangs On A Wall, And Somebody Buys It, And Maybe Somebody Buys It Again, Or Maybe Nobody Buys It And It Sits Up In A Loft Somewhere Until He Dies. But He Never, You Know, Nobody Ever, Nobody Ever Said To Van Gogh, 'paint A Starry Night Again, Man!' You Know? He Painted It And That Was It.

I'm A Fine Artist Working In A Commercial Arena, So That's My Cross To Bear

Fibers In A Variety Of Colors Protrude Out Of My Skin Like Mushrooms After A Rainstorm. They Cannot Be Forensically Identified As Animal, Vegetable Or Mineral.

We'll Laugh And Toast To Nothing, And Smash Our Empty Glasses Down.