Never Make A Decision When You Need

Your Servant Here, He Has Been Told To Say It Clear, To Say It Cold: It's Over, It Ain't Going Any Further And Now The Wheels Of Heaven Stop You Feel The Devil's Riding Crop Get Ready For The Future: It Is Murder

The Older I Get, The Surer I Am That I'm Not Running The Show.

They Ended Every Speech With The Word Hiro, Which Means: Like I Said. Thus Each Man Took Responsibility For Intruding Into The Inarticulate Murmur Of The Spheres. To Hiro They Added The Word Koue, A Cry Of Joy Or Distress, According To Whether It Was Sung Or Howled. Thus They Essayed To Piece The Mysterious Curtain Which Hangs Between All Talking Men: At The End Of Every Utterance A Man Stepped Back, So To Speak, And Attempted To Interpret His Words To The Listener, Attempted To Subvert The Beguiling Intellect With The Noise Of True Emotion.

In Montreal Spring Is Like An Autopsy. Everyone Wants To See The Inside Of The Frozen Mammoth. Girls Rip Off Their Sleeves And The Flesh Is Sweet And White, Like Wood Under Green Bark. From The Streets A Sexual Manifesto Rises Like An Inflating Tire, “the Winter Has Not Killed Us Again!

I Smile When I'm Angry , I Cheat And I Lie. I Do What I Have To Do To Get By. But I Know What Is Wrong And I Know What Is Right , And I'd Die For The Truth In My Secret Life .