...one Cannot Lodge In If.

Each And Every Part Of The World Is A Snare For The Fool And A Means Of Deliverance For The Wise.

I Am Not This Hair, I Am Not This Skin, I Am The Soul That Lives Within.

I Do Not Know Who Lives Here In My Chest, Or Why The Smile Comes. I Am Not Myself, More The Bare Green Knob Of A Rose That Lost Every Leaf And Petal To The Morning Wind.

Sit, Be Still, And Listen, Because You're Drunk And We're At The Edge Of The Roof.

Do You Pay Regular Visits To Yourself? Don't Argue Or Answer Rationally. Let Us Die, And Dying, Reply.