Outside Major Darkness Where The Circle Is

Sometimes We Live No Particular Way But Our Own

At The Top Of The Cycle You Write Policies For Everybody, No Matter How Bad, And At The Bottom You Cancel Everybody, No Matter How Good. It's A Manic-depressive Cycle.

Destroy Yourself Physically And Morally And Insist That All True Brothers Do Likewise As An Expression Of Unity.

The Storyteller Makes No Choice, Soon You Will Not Hear His Voice, His Job Is To Shed Light, And Not To Master

If My Words Did Glow With The Gold Of Sunshine And My Tunes Were Played On The Harp Unstrung Would You Hear My Voice Come Through The Music Would You Hold It Near As It Were Your Own?