Even Without Wars, Life Is

I Can Only Sign Over Everything, The House, The Dog, The Ladders, The Jewels, The Soul, The Family Tree, The Mailbox. Then I Can Sleep. Maybe.

It's All A Matter Of History. Brandy Is No Solace. Librium Only Lies Me Down Like A Dead Snow Queen. Yes! I Am Still The Criminal.

But My Future Is A Secret. / It Is As Shy As A Mole.

Then God Spoke To Me And Said: People Say Only Good Things About Christmas. If They Want To Say Something Bad, They Whisper.

Writers Are Such Phonies: They Sometimes Have Wise Insights But They Don't Live By Them At All. That's What Writers Are Like...you Think They Know Something, But Usually They Are Just Messes.