There Is No Life Higher

The Blood Of Love Welled Up In My Heart With A Slow Pain.

I Like You, But Not Too Much. I Don’t Want To Like Anybody Too Much.

I Think I May Well Be A Jew.

Your Room Is Not Your Prison. You Are.

No, I Won't Try To Escape Myself By Losing Myself In Artificial Chatter 'did You Have A Nice Vacation?' 'oh, Yes, And You?' I'll Stay Here And Try To Pin That Loneliness Down.