Except The Christ Be Born

Factory Windows Are Always Brokenother Windows Are Let Alone.no One Throws Through The Chapel-windowthe Bitter, Snarling, Derisive Stone.

Let Not Young Souls Be Smothered Out Before They Do Quaint Deeds And Fully Flaunt Their Pride.

Oh, I Have Walked In Kansas Through Many A Harvest Field, And Piled The Sheaves Of Glory There And Down The Wild Rows Reeled: Each Sheaf A Little Yellow Sun, A Heap Of Hot-rayed Gold; Each Binder Like Creation's Hand To Mold Suns, As Of Old.

They Tried To Get Me-i Got Them First! (suicide Note)

Change The Fabric Of Your Own Soul And Your Own Visions, And You Change All.