I Got This Grave Yard Woman.

The Only Person You Have To Think About Lying Twice To Is Either Yourself Or To God. The Press Isn't Either Of Them. And I Just Figured They're Irrelevant.

As I Stepped To The Stage To Pick Up My Degree, And The Locusts Sang Off In The Distance.

I Had Ambitions To Set Out And Find, Like An Odyssey Or Going Home Somewhere, Set Out To Find This Home That I'd Left A While Back And Couldn't Remember Exactly Where It Was, But I Was On My Way There. And Encountering What I Encountered On The Way Was How I Envisioned It All. I Didn't Really Have Any Ambition At All. I Was Born Very Far From Where I'm Supposed To Be, And So, I'm On My Way Home, You Know?

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

Never Make It Perfect.