The American Humorist Sat On His Couch

Like Some Kind Of Strange Vacuum Cleaner I Tried To Console Him. I Recited The Same Old Litanies That You Say To People When You Try To Help Their Broken Hearts, But Words Can't Help At All. It's Just The Sound Of Another Human Voice That Makes The Only Difference. There's Nothing You're Ever Going To Say That's Going To Make Anybody Happy When They're Feeling Shitty About Losing Somebody That They Love.

I Thought About It For Awhile, Hiding It From The Rest Of My Mind. But I Didn't Ruin My Birthday By Secretly Thinking About It Too Hard

Gee, You're So Beautiful That It's Starting To Rain Oh, Marcia, I Want Your Long Blonde Beauty To Be Taught In High School, So Kids Will Learn That God Lives Like Music In The Skin And Sounds Like A Sunshine Harpsicord. I Want High School Report Cards To Look Like This: Playing With Gentle Glass Things A Computer Magic A Writing Letters To Those You Love A Finding Out About Fish A Marcia's Long Blonde Beauty A+!

I Believe I Saw A Woodcock. He Had A Long Bill Like Putting A Fire Hydrant Into A Pencil Sharpener, Then Pasting It Onto A Bird And Letting The Bird Fly Away In Front Of Me With This Thing On Its Face For No Other Purpose Than To Amaze Me.

The Smallest Snowstorm On Record Took Place An Hour Ago In My Back Yard. It Was Approximately Two Flakes. I Waited For More To Fall, But That Was It. The Entire Storm Was Two Flakes.