Guilt Is The One Burden

I Seek The Real Stuff Of Life. Profound Drama.

America Hates The Artist. It Will Not Admit: The Artist Is My Soul And I Want To Kill Off My Soul.

New York Seems Conducted By Jazz, Animated By It. It Is Essentially A City Of Rhythm.

Now That I Am Moving, I Am Afraid. Where Am I Going?

I Am Only Responsible For My Own Heart, You Offered Yours Up For The Smashing My Darling. Only A Fool Would Give Out Such A Vital Organ