What Happens To The Rest

She Was No Longer A Slow Dreamer Watching The Flowers Grow. She Was A Warrior Now. Warriors Need Something To Fight For Though, Beside Their Lives, Because Otherwise Their Lives Will Not Be Worth It.

You Are My Marilyn. You Are My Lake Full Of Fishes. You Are My Sky Set, My 'hollywood In Miniature,' My Pink Cadillac, My Highway, My Martini, The Stage For My Heart To Rock And Roll On, The Screen Where My Movies Light Up.

Each Of Us Has A Family Tree Full Of Stories Inside Of Us, Dirk Thought. Each Of Us Has A Story Blossoming Out Of Us.

Pulling Heads Off Barbies, Sticking Them On The Tv Antenna And Ruining The Reception. But Thats How Witch Babies Are.

But Be Careful; Sand Is Already Broken But Glass Breaks. The Shoes Are For Dancing, Not Running Away.