a love song to the self, a story recapped every day, a world of bogus feelings and a world of slow decay. a world of laughter hidden by this world of
he's the latest super hero with powers so profound he can leap a dotted line in just a single bound, I know you must have seen him in books and magazines
this isn't another new fashion or a new plastic trend, everybody's searching for something but in the mean time let's all just pretend I've got this
I can recall the warm youth of a summer day, The sweetest lemonade, The darkest game arcade, And Billy had a yearning In the corner of his mind, It moved
well the sheaves have all been brought, but the fields have washed away, and the palaces now stand where the coffins all were laid, and the times we
stranded in a life in which your struggle for acceptance is a never-ending chore, upbraided for your actions past and present and rewarded for ideas
mercy can your loins bear fruit forever? is your fecundity a trammel or a treasure? I want to conquer the world, give all the idiots a brand new religion
going through a world of sad debris, regard quixotic reveries of ownership, the blossoming disease of man called tenure and accretion, the ancient western
the wheat waving next to you is healthy and so fine as is dinner with your loved-ones every day, but your routines is changeless through the decades
away, and believe these words you hear when you think your path is clear . . . we have no control, we do not understand, you have no control, you are
there's a specter in the corner of an illustrated page, and a lonesome muted stringling with a rapt remedial gaze, the poverty of his language and the
and progress is not intelligently planned, it's the facade of our heritage, the odor of our land, they speak of progress, in red, white and blue, it'
you've got to quit your little charade and join the freak parade now that your road has been paved from conception to your grave, there are enormous
there's a watch in my pocket and its hands are broken, the face is blank the gears are turning, confusion is a fundamental state of mind, it doesn't
there's a place where everyone can be happy, it's the most beautiful place in the whole fucking world, it's made of candy canes and planes, red choo-
He's the latest superhero with powers so profound He leaped a dotted line in just a single bound I know you must have seen him in books and magazines
It's a love song to the self, a story recapped every day It's a world of bogus feelings and a world of slow decay It's a world of laughter hidden by this