My Eyes, Those Sluts, Those Whores, Would

Well, One Gets Out Of Bed And The Planets Don't Always Hiss Or Muck Up The Day, Each Day.

When They Turn The Sun On Again I'll Plant Children Under It, I'll Light Up My Soul With A Match And Let It Sing.

Everyone In Me Is A Bird I Am Beating All My Wings

What A Lay Me Down This Is With Two Pink, Two Orange, Two Green, Two White Goodnights.

All I Am Is The Trick Of Words Writing Themselves.