The Truth Of The Matter Is, You

I Mean, Why On Earth (outside Sickness And Hangovers) Aren't People Continually Drunk? I Want Ecstasy Of The Mind All The Time.

It Ain't Whatcha Write, It's The Way Atcha Write It.

I Can't Think Of Anybody...who Knows The Sum And Substance Of What I Know And Feel And Cry About In My Secret Self All The Time When I Don't Feel Strong, The Sorrows Of Time And Personality, And Can Therefore On All Levels Make It All The Way With Me

I Promise I Shall Never Give Up, And That I'll Die Yelling & Laughing.

One Day I Will Find The Right Words, And They Will Be Simple.