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We Can't Control Our Destiny, But We Can Control Who We Become.

It Is Becoming A Bad Dream-- In The Daytime As Well As At Night. I See Him Nearly All The Time And Can't Get At Him, I Mustn't Show Anything, Must Remain Gay While I'm Really In Despair.

I'm Currently In The Middle Of A Depression. I Couldn't Really Tell You What Set It Off, But I Think It Stems From My Cowardice, Which Confronts Me At Every Turn.

As Long As This Exists, This Sunshine And This Cloudless Sky, And As Long As I Can Enjoy It, How Can I Be Sad?

But I Won't Bore You Any Longer On The Subject Of Old Men. It Won't Make Things Any Better And All My Plans Of Revenge (such As Disconnecting The Lamp, Shutting The Door, Hiding His Clothes) Must Be Abandoned In Order To Keep The Peace. Oh, I'm Becoming So Sensible!