Bright Beads Of Red Are

So Many People Are Shut Up Tight Inside Themselves Like Boxes, Yet They Would Open Up, Unfolding Quite Wonderfully, If Only You Were Interested In Them.

I Do Not Know Who I Am Tonight.

I Felt The First Man I Slept With Must Be Intelligent, So I Could Respect Him.

Perhaps Some Day I'll Crawl Back Home, Beaten, Defeated. But Not As Long As I Can Make Stories Out Of My Heartbreak, Beauty Out Of Sorrow.

There Must Be Quite A Few Things That A Hot Bath Won't Cure, But I Don't Know Many Of Them.