The Beauty Of Things Must

Equally Empty, Equally To Be Loved, Equally A Coming Buddha

In My Medicine Cabinet, The Winter Fly Has Died Of Old Age.

And When The Fog's Over And The Stars And The Moon Come Out At Night It'll Be A Beautiful Sight.

Who Knows, My God, But That The Universe Is Not One Vast Sea Of Compassion Actually, The Veritable Holy Honey, Beneath All This Show Of Personality And Cruelty?

So I Rushed Past The Pretty Girls, And The Prettiest Girls In The World Live In Des Moines.