If You Ever Get A War Without

So Good To Be Alive When The Eulogies Are Read.

Leaving America Is Like Losing Twenty Pounds And Finding A New Girlfriend.

The Final Story, The Final Chapter Of Western Man, I Believe, Lies In Los Angeles.

The Painter Paints His Brushes Black, Through The Canvas Runs A Crack, Portrait Of The Pain Never Answers Back...

Love Is A Rainbow Curving Down From The Sky, Falling Crystals Of Color, Shades Of Warm That Never Die.