All In All, I'd Say,

Love Your Self's Self Where It Lives.

The Joy That Isn't Shared Dies Young.

We Are America. We Are The Coffin Fillers. We Are The Grocers Of Death. We Pack Them In Crates Like Cauliflowers.

Let There Be A Heaven So That Man May Outlive His Grasses.

The Windows, The Starving Windows That Drive The Trees Like Nails Into My Heart.