I Dream Too Much, Work Too Little.

I Wanted To Crawl In Between Those Black Lines Of Print, The Way You Crawl Through A Fence, And Go To Sleep Under That Beautiful Big Green Fig-tree.

I Cut You Out Because I Couldn't Stand Being A Passing Fancy.

Mother Of Otherness, Eat Me.

I Want To Be Able To Sleep In An Open Field, To Travel West, To Walk Freely At Night.

Let's Face It: I'm Scared, Scared And Frozen. First, I Guess, I'm Afraid For Myself...the Old Primitive Urge For Survival. It's Getting So I Live Every Moment With Terrible Intensity.