To Think That So Much

They Build Their Own Hells.

What's In Store For Me In The Direction I Don't Take?

Live, Travel, Adventure, Bless, And Don't Be Sorry.

But I Remember Seeing A Mess Of Leaves Suddenly Go Skittering In The Wind And Into The Creek, Then Floating Rapidly Down The Creek Towards The Sea, Making Me Feel A Nameless Horror Even Then Of 'oh My God, We're All Being Swept Away To Sea No Matter What We Know Or Say Or Do

Holy Flowers Floating In The Air, Were All These Tired Faces In The Dawn Of Jazz America.