...everything Looks Worse In Black And White.

And A Rock Feels No Pain; And An Island Never Cries.

Time, Time, Time, See What's Become Of Me, While I Looked Around, For My Possibilities; I Was So Hard To Please

It's Actually Very Difficult To Make Something Both Simple And Good.

I Met My Old Lover On The Street Last Night. She Seemed So Glad To See Me, I Just Smiled. Then We Talked About Some Old Times And We Drank Ourselves Some Beers, Still Crazy After All These Years.

I See A Correlation Between Short Stories And Songs, Because Of Their Length And For What They're Meant To Evoke. Combine Certain Words With Melodies And It All Becomes Very Moving.