Words Are Sexier Than Flesh.

Journey To The End Of Day, Come The Fire-fly, Come The Moon; Say A Prayer For God's Good Grace And Sleep With Lore Upon Your Face.

Anyway, It's Gone. And There's Nothing Left In My Pocket To Charm You. So From Now On It's Going To Have To Be Tears Or Nothing I'm Afraid. That's All I've Got Left To Tell You See: Tears, Tears, Tears.

After All, Where Can The Glorious, The Goofy, And The God-like Stand Shoulder To Shoulder?

We Burn So Hard, But We Shed So Little Light; It Makes Us Crazy And Sad.

Never Believe Your Eyes