There are stories in the soil, loose leaves cover the ground. There's volumes in the forest, no one reads out loud. If I could take them down off of that mountain shelf.
Close your eyes. The dark outside can't hurt you. And I will never desert your bedside. . So close them tight. The stars are so glad that they've found you.
Here we go. Can I get a goddamn timpany roll to start this goddamn song?. Tonight, it is a goddamn song. For all you goddamn people. . Well, the animals laugh from the dark of the wilderness.
John A. Hobson was a good man. He used to loan me books and mic stands. He even got me a subscription. To the Socialist Review. . Listening to records in his basement.
Laura, are you still livin' there on your estate of sorrow?. You used to leave it occasionally, but now you don't even bother. To ride the commuter train West to Chicago.
If you walk away I walk away. First tell me which road you will take. I don't want to risk our paths crossing someday. So you walk that way I'll walk this way.
No one knows where the ladder goes. You're gonna lose what you love the most. You're not alone in anything. You're not unique in dying. . I feel a strange day every now and then.