I Am Inhabited By A Cry. Nightly

If You Dissect A Bird / To Diagram The Tongue, / You'll Cut The Chord / Articulating Song.

Dancing Is The Normal Prelude To Intercourse.

I Don’t Care About Anyone, And The Feeling Is Quite Obviously Mutual.

I Guess They Call It Suicide, But I'm To Full To Swallow My Pride I Can't Stand Losing You The Police Dying Is An Art, Like Everything Else. I Do It Exceptionally Well.

I Have Let Things Slip, A Thirty-year~old Cargo Boat Stubbornly Hanging On To My Name And Address.