It's Hard To Speculate What Tomorrow May

She's A Hypnotist Collector; You Are A Walking Antique.

Too Much Of Nothing, It Just Makes A Fellow Mean.

Just A Reminder, If You Tell Anyone About What Happened With Jonah Last Night, I'll Destroy All Of My Writing And Never Play Music Again.

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

You Five And Ten Cent Women With Nothing In Your Heads, I Got A Real Gal I'm Loving And Lord I'll Love Her 'til I'm Dead.