We’d Torn Open Our Chests

That World! These Days It's All Been Erased And They've Rolled It Up Like A Scroll And Put It Away Somewhere. Yes, I Can Touch It With My Fingers. But Where Is It?

All The Modern Verse Plays, They're Terrible; They're Mostly About The Poetry. It's More Important That The Play Is First.

We In Purgatory Sing Fondly Of Hell.

I Think It's Silly For Anyone To Think You Could Write Under The Influence, But If They'd Like To Think That, I'd Like To Keep The Legend Alive. Maybe I Was Under The Influence When I Wrote Jesus' Son And I Just Didn't Know It.

This Wasn't The Sea Of The Inexorable Horizon And Smashing Waves, Not The Sea Of Distance And Violence, But The Sea Of The Etenally Leveling Patience And Wetness Of Water. Whether It Comes To You In A Storm Or In A Cup, It Owns You--we Are More Water Than Dust. It Is Our Origin And Our Destination.