The Future Is A Fog That Is

It's All A Matter Of History. Brandy Is No Solace. Librium Only Lies Me Down Like A Dead Snow Queen. Yes! I Am Still The Criminal.

Somebody Who Should Have Been Born Is Gone.

I Said, The Poets Are There I Hear Them Singing And Lying Around Their Round Table And Around Me Still.

Cinderella And The Prince Lived, They Say, Happily Ever After, Like Two Dolls In A Museum Case Never Bothered By Diapers Or Dust, Never Arguing Over The Timing Of An Egg, Never Telling The Same Story Twice.

Sometimes I Fly Like An Eagle But With The Wings Of A Wren