Cold - Cold As Truth, Cold As

When I Think About It, If I Had To Choose, I'd Rather Be Happy Than Write.

There Is No Doubt That Running Away On A Fresh, Blue Morning Can Be Exhilarating.

It Is Strange How Sad It Can Be - Sunlight In The Afternoon, Don't You Think?

Yes, I Am Sad, Sad As A Circus-lioness, Sad As An Eagle Without Wings, Sad As A Violin With Only One String And That One Broken, Sad As A Woman Who Is Growing Old. Sad, Sad, Sad.

When You Are A Child You Are Yourself And You Know And See Everything Prophetically. And Then Suddenly Something Happens And You Stop Being Yourself; You Become What Others Force You To Be. You Lose Your Wisdom And Your Soul.