The Place I Live In

Love Your Self's Self Where It Lives.

Stop The Darkness And Its Amputations And Find The Real Mccoy In The Private Holiness Of My Hands.

As For Me, I Am A Watercolor. I Wash Off.

The Saints Come, As Human As A Mouth, With A Bag Of God In Their Backs, Like A Hunchback, They Come, They Come Marching In.

What's Missing Is The Eyeballs In Each Of Us, But It Doesn't Matter Because You've Got The Bucks, The Bucks, The Bucks.