I'm Not The Kind Of

Bent Out Of Shape From Society's Pliers, Cares Not To Come Up Any Higher, But Rather Get You Down In The Hole That He's In.

The Times Are A-changing And If We Don't We Will Sink Like A Stone.

They're Selling Postcards Of The Hanging.

Night Can Swallow You Up, Yet None Of It Touches You. Around Any Corner, There's A Promise Of Something Daring And Ideal And Things Are Just Getting Going. There's Something Obscenely Joyful Behind Every Door, Either That Or Somebody Crying With Their Head In In Their Hands. A Lazy Rhythm Looms In The Dreamy Air And The Atmosphere Pulsates With Bygone Duels, Past-life Romance, Comrades Requesting Comrades To Aid Them In Some Way. You Can't See It, But You Know It's There

I'm Gonna Spare The Defeated. I'm Gonna Tame The Proud.