The Sunlight On The Garden Hardens And

You Know The Worst: Your Wills Are Fickle, Your Values Blurred, Your Hearts Impure And Your Past Life A Ruined Church-- But Let Your Poison Be Your Cure.

And I Envy The Intransigence Of My Own Countrymen Who Shoot To Kill And Never See The Victim's Face Become Their Own Or Find His Motive Sabotage Their Motives.

I Am Not Yet Born; Forgive Me For The Sins That In Me The World Shall Commit, My Words When They Speak Me, My Thoughts When They Think Me, My Treason Engendered By Traitors Beyound Me, My Life When They Murder By Means Of My Hands, My Death When They Live Me.

World Is Crazier And More Of It Than We Think, Incorrigibly Plural.

It's No Go The Picture Palace, It's No Go The Stadium, It's No Go The Country Cot With A Pot Of Pink Geraniums. It's No Go The Government Grants, It's No Go The Elections, Sit On Your Arse For Fifty Years And Hang Your Hat On A Pension.