Cold - Cold As Truth, Cold As

I'm No Use To Anybody,' I Say. 'i'm A Cérébrale, Can't You See That?' Thinking How Funny A Book Would Be, Called 'just A Cérébrale Or You Can't Stop Me From Dreaming'. Only, Of Course, To Be Accepted As Authentic, To Carry Any Conviction, It Would Have To Be Written By A Man. What A Pity, What A Pity!

If She Says Goodbye Perhaps Adieu. Adieu - Like Those Old Time Songs She Sang. Always Adieu (and All Songs Say It). If She Too Says It, Or Weeps, I'll Take Her In My Arms, My Lunatic. She's Mad But Mine, Mine. What Will I Care For Gods Or Devils Or For Fate Itself. If She Smiles Or Weeps Or Both. For Me.

Human Beings Are Struggling, And So They Are Egoists. But It's Wrong To Say That They Are Wholy Cruel - It's A Deformed View.

It Was The Darkness That Got You. It Was Heavy Darkness, Greasy And Compelling. It Made Walls Round You, And Shut You In So That You Felt Like You Could Not Breathe.

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.