A Song Is Like A Dream, And

Morality Has Nothing In Common With Politics.

Although The Masters Make The Rules For The Wise Men And The Fools, I've Got Nothing, Ma, To Live Up To.

Then Take Me Disappearin' Through The Smoke Rings Of My Mind, Down The Foggy Ruins Of Time, Far Past The Frozen Leaves, The Haunted, Frightened Trees, Out To The Windy Beach, Far From The Twisted Reach Of Crazy Sorrow. Yes, To Dance Beneath The Diamond Sky With One Hand Waving Free, Silhouetted By The Sea, Circled By The Circus Sands, With All Memory And Fate Driven Deep Beneath The Waves, Let Me Forget About Today Until Tomorrow.

One Who Sings With His Tongue On Fire, Gargles In The Rat Race Choir.

I Can't See Myself Singing The Same Song Twice In A Row. That's Terrible.