God Knows There's A Heaven.

All That Foreign Oil Controlling American Soil.

I'm One Too Many Mornings, And A Thousand Miles Behind.

Night Can Swallow You Up, Yet None Of It Touches You. Around Any Corner, There's A Promise Of Something Daring And Ideal And Things Are Just Getting Going. There's Something Obscenely Joyful Behind Every Door, Either That Or Somebody Crying With Their Head In In Their Hands. A Lazy Rhythm Looms In The Dreamy Air And The Atmosphere Pulsates With Bygone Duels, Past-life Romance, Comrades Requesting Comrades To Aid Them In Some Way. You Can't See It, But You Know It's There

Pain Sure Does Bring Out The Best In People, Doesn't It?

You Never Turned Around To See The Frowns On The Jugglers And The Clowns When They All Did Tricks For You.