I Started Adding Up All The Things

I Am Solitary As Grass. What Is It I Miss? Shall I Ever Find It, Whatever It Is?

Do We Always Grind Through The Present, Doomed To Throw A Gold Haze Of Fond Retrospect Over The Past?

The Tulips Are Too Red...they Hurt Me.

Then I Thought, "no, I Broke It Myself. I Broke It On Purpose To Pay Myself Back For Being Such A Heel.

The Trouble About Jumping Was That If You Didn't Pick The Right Number Of Stories, You Might Still Be Alive When You Hit Bottom.