We Could Plan A Murder Or Start

We Have Assembled Inside This Ancient / And Insane Theatre / To Propagate Our Lust For Life / And Flee The Swarming Wisdom / Of The Streets

Music Inflames Temperament.

I Am Troubled, Immeasurably By Your Eyes. I Am Struck By The Feather Of Your Soft Reply. The Sound Of Glass Speaks Quick, Disdain And Conceals What Your Eyes Fight To Explain.

I Can Kind Of Envision One Person With A Lot Of Machines, Tapes, And Electronic Set-ups...singi Ng Or Speaking And Using Machines.

Love Cannot Save You From Your Own Fate.