The Stars Up Close To The Moon

The Trouble With Super Heroes Is What To Do Between Phone Booths.

Billy Here Has Been Talkin' About Slicin' His Wrists Again, So Is There Seven Of You Guys Who'd Like To Join Him And Make It Therapeutic?

Turns Me On So Loud It's Like No Sound, Everybody Yelling At Me Hands Over Their Ears From Behind A Glass Wall, Faces Working Around In Talk Circles But No Sound From The Mouths. My Sound Soaks Up All Other Sound.

The Flock Gets Sight Of A Spot Of Blood On Some Chicken And They All Go To Peckin' At It, See, Till They Rip The Chicken To Shreds, Blood And Bones And Feathers. But Usually A Couple Of The Flock Gets Spotted In The Fracas, Then It's Their Turn. And A Few More Gets Spots And Gets Pecked To Death, And More And More. Oh, A Peckin' Party Can Wipe Out The Whole Flock In A Matter Of A Few Hours, Buddy, I Seen It. A Mighty Awesome Sight. The Only Way To Prevent It—with Chickens—is To Clip Blinders On Them. So's They Can't See.

When Shakespeare Was Writing, He Wasn't Writing For Stuff To Lie On The Page; It Was Supposed To Get Up And Move Around.