We've got nothing to fear but fear itself. Not pain or failure, not fatal tragedy. Not the faulty units in this mad machinery. Not the broken contacts in emotional chemistry?.
We've got nothing to fear but fear itself. Not pain or failure, not fatal tragedy. Not the faulty units in this mad machinery. Not the broken contacts in emotional chemistry?.
A pleasant faced man steps up to greet you. he smiles and says he's pleased to meet you. Beneath his hat the strangeness lies. Take it off he's got three eyes.
Grim-faced and forbidding. Their faces closed tight. an angular mass of New Yorkers. Pacing in rhythm. Race the oncoming night. They chase through the streets of Manhattan.