Masks Are The Order Of The Day

But When It Came Right Down To It, The Skin Of My Wrist Looked So White And Defenseless That I Couldn't Do It.

You Walked In, Laughing, Tears Welling Confused, Mingling In Your Throat. How Can You Be So Many Women To So Many People, Oh You Strange Girl?

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

Secretly, In Studies And Attics And Schoolrooms All Over America, People Must Be Writing.

If Only I Knew What I Wanted I Could Try To See About Getting It.