I Burn The Way Money Burns.

It Would Be Pleasant To Be Drunk.

I Would Like A Simple Life / Yet All Night I Am Laying / Poems Away In A Long Box.

I Said, The Poets Are There I Hear Them Singing And Lying Around Their Round Table And Around Me Still.

I'm Hunting For The Truth. It Might Be A Kind Of Poetic Truth, And Not Just A Factual One, Because Behind Everything That Happens To You, There Is Another Truth, A Secret Life.

The Day Of Fire Is Coming, The Thrush Will Fly Ablaze Like A Little Sky Rocket.