I Have My Books And My Poetry

Nor Is It Strange That After Changes Upon Changes, We Are More Or Less The Same

When I Look Back At All The Crap I Learned In High School, It's A Wonder I Can Think At All.

Maybe The Heart Is Part Of The Mist. And That's All That There Is Or Could Ever Exist. Maybe And Maybe And Maybe Some More. Maybe's The Exit That I'm Looking For.

And She Said 'losing Love Is Like A Window In Your Heart, Everybody Sees You're Blown Apart, Everybody Feels The Wind Blow.'

By The Time I Was 12 Or 13, I Felt That I Was Special, Because I Could Play The Guitar And Write Songs.